


In the Bedroom

by Ellique



Category: Hollows - Kim Harrison
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellique/pseuds/Ellique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Pale Demon. ***SPOILERS FROM PALE DEMON***<br/>Rachel's reunion with Algaliarept. The bracelet comes off and Rachel finds herself in Al's bedroom!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cake for a Demon

The silver bracelet on my wrist sparkled in the afternoon light that was filtering through the kitchen window. It was a little after midday and I was cooking. Baking, actually.

I had baked a cake. It was a deep, rich, Black Forest gateau and my mouth hadn’t stopped watering since the baking process started. Ivy and I had been grocery shopping earlier in the week when I found my inspiration in the form of a sinfully delicious tart cherry liquor in an aisle containing a veritable sundry of exotic, imported culinary delights. The frosting was going to consist of whipped cream, cherries and chocolate shavings. _Yum!_

I was currently in the process of icing said cake when I announced my plans to “visit” Al. And from there, discussions… or, rather… arguments… ensued.  
Jenks flitted above my head like an angry hornet, making me dizzy. Red dust sifted off of him in buckets like confetti at a parade, indicating a mix of emotions – mainly, nervousness, annoyance and anger.

He paused his flitting for a moment and gave me his best Peter Pan pose before he started. “You stupid ass witch,” he admonished, shaking his head. His blond, shoulder-length hair shone in the sunlight like liquid gold. His ordinarily gorgeous, emerald green eyes had turned cold and calculating. They seared my retinas like green lasers as he narrowed his eyes to slits and continued his tirade.

“Am I the only one here who thinks this is dumbest idea Rache has had in her long history of dumb ideas?”

Ivy looked down at the file she was working on and Bis shrugged, his bat-like wings moving in time with his leathery shoulders. Since my recovery from having my aura shredded courtesy of Ku’Sox, the day-walking, genetically-defective demon of my nightmares, Bis had been staying awake for longer and longer periods of time throughout the day. Al once told me that gargoyles didn’t start day-walking until they were well into their second century of life. Bis, however, being only hair over the half-century mark, had apparently defied all odds. I looked up at him sitting on top of the refrigerator, his usual hangout. I met his red eyes that expressed both concern and understanding. He was a brave kid and he would go along with whatever I decided. He was, after all, my gargoyle. He had bonded with me in spite of everything. Despite my attempts to avoid speaking with him and my avoiding him like the Turn when all indications pointed to him having bonded with me, he had come to my rescue and saved my life. I gave him a hopeful smile which he returned in kind. We had been through a lot in our short time together and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

“Am I the only one here,” Jenks ranted, “who remembers how furious Al was when he attacked us in the hospital? When he thought Rache was brain dead and he started trying to take Trent to the ever-after, tiny cookie-maker piece by tiny cookie-maker piece?”

“Tink’s perky, pink titties, Rache!” Jenks raged. “God only knows what he’ll do when you pop over there and yell ‘Surprise! I’m alive!’”

Ivy sighed but didn’t look up from her paperwork. “Jenks, Rachel is old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Rache,” Jenks pleaded, “you didn’t see him! Al was one vengeful, fucked-up, bad-ass demon on a mission to kill us all! And now you just want to drop by with no warning or anything. And you expect everything to be F.I.N.E. fine?!”

“Alright, Aerosmith. Hold your horses,” I countered. “Maybe not fine, per se” I admitted.

“Per se!” Jenks scoffed.

“I just.. it’s hard for me to explain, Jenks. I don’t feel like myself with this on,” I said, holding up my hand as the bracelet fell further down my arm. “I don’t want to keep running away from what I am. I need to face it,” I said, meeting his stare. Even as I said it, I felt a twinge of guilt somewhere in the midst of all my other emotions. I was leaving my main motivation unspoken and hoped neither Jenks nor Ivy could tell. That I missed Al, that my life felt empty without him, wasn’t something they would find particularly persuasive let alone be something they could understand. Hell, I didn’t even understand it.

“And,” I added, lifting a finger to my lips to taste a bit of the whipped cream I was using to ice the cake. “I’m prying him with sweets. Al loves cake!” I exclaimed. I licked my lips, savoring the sweetness of the cream. _Hmm… he does, doesn’t he? Or does he just think I love cake? Now that I think of it, I think he wanted to bake me a cake. Yes, that was it. To get into my… what did he say? Cute, little, black, lace panties? Okay, maybe cake is sending the wrong message._

I thought Ivy had decided to stay out of the argument when she lifted her head, her black, poker-straight hair falling forward to perfectly frame her face. “She’s a demon, Jenks” Ivy interjected. “She belongs there with them,” she said in quiet resignation.

My mouth was open and my tongue was halfway to flapping when Ivy held up a hand and stopped me from objecting.  
“You belong here too, Rachel,” she said, a half smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “But you have a place with them as well. I understand that. And Jenks,” she said, shifting her gaze to him. “You need to understand that, too.”

Jenks lowered himself to rest on the small spatula I was using to apply the icing. He walked along the handle and helped himself to a handful of whipped cream.  
“This is really good,” he mumbled over a mouthful of icing. “He’ll love it.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Jenks.”

“Could you at least wait til sunset, though, Rache?” he pleaded. “Call it pixie intuition, but Al doesn’t seem like the type of guy who likes surprises.”  
“If I wait til then, I’ll risk him coming here and wreaking havoc on the church,” I reasoned in response. “This way, I can pop over to his kitchen with the cake and can have dinner waiting for him when he wakes.”

Jenks looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. His jaw dropped to the floor and he blanched, looking both astounded and nauseous. “What are you now? His wife?”  
I blushed, wondering how Jenks and Ivy would react if I admitted to them I was starting to have feelings for the demon. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Jenks,” I laughed.  
I unwrapped a large chunk of chocolate and started grating it into a large bowl. The chocolate shavings would go on the outside of the cake and then I would finish it off by adding fresh, morello cherries on top. _A perfectly English dessert for my perfectly English demon. Wait. Did I really just think that?!_

“I know Al must be pissed about losing me,” I admitted, slight nervousness causing an increase in my chocolate grating tempo. _And maybe he’s even a bit heart-broken as well._ Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “You know what they say. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Trust me. This cake is simply good planning on my part.”

Ivy’s mouth opened, showing her razor-sharp incisors. “Oh, my God. She is his wife!” she echoed.

“Look, guys!” I pleaded, shaking the large chunk of chocolate in the air for added effect. “You’re really blowing this out of proportion. I’m going to go over there. With Bis. Make nice with Al. He’ll probably drag me all over the ever-after, putting me on display or whatever. And Bis and I will be back tomorrow afternoon. I promise.”  
Jenks and Ivy looked anxious and skeptical as they watched me finish grating the chocolate. I began applying the shavings around the edge of the cake, gently spinning the cake with one hand and using my other hand to apply the chocolate.

When I finished, I wiped my hands on my apron and Ivy stood. She walked up to me and gave me a hug, her earthy scent of vampiric incense mixing with the sweet smell of whipped cream and chocolate.

“Be careful,” she whispered, and she released her embrace. She gathered her file and walked out of the kitchen. “See you tomorrow afternoon, Rachel,” she called out from the other room.  
Jenks floated up to the top of the refrigerator to meet Bis at eye level. “You take good care of Rachel, gargoyle,” he warned.

Bis shifted his legs and ruffled his wings, the tufts on his ears growing darker in color. “Yes, sir,” he answered with his gravely voice. “I will always look out for Miss Rachel.”  
I smiled at him. “I know you will, Bis. Jenks, we’ll be fine. Just relax.”

Jenks frowned. “Yeah, I’ll relax when you’re back here tomorrow afternoon in one piece. Be careful, Rache,” he added, before flitting out the window to his stump in the garden.


	2. Through the Ley Lines

I told Bis to wait for me in the kitchen and I headed off to my bedroom to change and make sure I was reasonably presentable. Okay, so maybe I wanted to look more than presentable. Al always responded favorably when I looked put-together. Above almost anything else, Al held a great appreciation for aesthetics. I wanted to look my best.

I untied my apron and tossed it into the hamper and then changed into a pair of fitted jeans and put on a clean, black tank top. I pulled a dark green sweater over my head and adjusted it as I looked at myself in the floor-length mirror mounted on the back of my bedroom door. The sweater was lightweight and feminine - a v-neck, cashmere blend Ivy had bought me one Solstice. It brought out the green in my eyes and made me look really good, hugging what little curves I had as if it had been custom made to fit my body. I pulled on a rugged yet sexy pair of black boots to complete the outfit. Looking into the mirror, I was pleased with what I saw. I had spent extra time this morning blowing my hair out straight and had tied it back in a low ponytail. I even put on a bit of makeup – nothing dramatic, just subtle enough to bring out my best features. One final check in the mirror confirmed that I was looking great and ready to go.  
I reached down and grabbed a small messenger bag I had packed with a change of clothes, and headed back out to the kitchen to find Bis waiting on top of the refrigerator where I had left him.

“What’s the plan, Miss Rachel?” he asked, his red eyes glowing with excitement.

I looked down at my wrist and I knew it was purely psychological, but the weight of the silver bracelet felt more leaden than ever. “Before I left the hospital, Trent gave me the incantation to remove the bracelet,” I explained to Bis.

“So I was thinking,” I continued, “it’d go something like this. Step 1, I say the magic words. Step 2, the bracelet falls off. Step 3, I spindle just enough line energy to keep us in tact for the duration of our trip, but hopefully not enough to alert the demon collective, or Al, to my presence.”

Bis frowned and shifted his weight from foot to foot, a move he only displayed when he was nervous. He said, “Sounds okay to me, I guess. But don’t you think Al will know you’re alive as soon as you tap a line?”

“Which is why we’re doing this during the day,” I explained. “Even if he feels it, he can’t just pop over here during the day when the lines are closed to summoning.”

Bis’ frown deepened. “I sure hope Al’s not angry,” he cautioned.

“Don’t worry, Bis,” I assured him with a smile. “It will be fine. That’s why we have the cake!” I exclaimed.

I looked around the floor of the kitchen and found one of the eco-friendly, cloth bags Ivy made me use when we went grocery shopping. Shaking out the bag, I said to Bis, “I’m just going to pack a few more things and then I’ll be set.”

I opened the refrigerator and retrieved the bag of fresh morello cherries for the cake topping, setting them on the center island to be packed last. If they didn’t go in last, they’d be squashed on the bottom of the bag and turned into jam before Bis and I even got into the ley line. I loaded in a block of sharp, English farmhouse cheddar and a fresh baguette Ivy had picked up for me at the bakery this morning, both of which I intended to use to make Al a few sandwiches. I may not be great at math, but who can argue with the equation that good food = happy demon?  
I crouched down to reach one of the shelves below the counter and pulled out a few ley line supplies I might need, should Al decide to turn our reunion into a tutoring day. My calling mirror, a fresh stick of magnetic chalk, and a handful of candles in assorted colors rounded out the cargo I threw into the grocery bag.

“So,” I said, turning back to Bis. “What do you think? Are you okay spending a day in the ever-after?”

“Yeah, Miss Rachel,” he agreed. “It’s okay,” he said, with sullen resolve.

After a brief pause he added, “I sure wish Al’s gargoyle was more friendly. She’s kinda scary,” he remarked, the tufts of his ears going white.

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she is a bit testy, isn’t she? But,” I said, “we’re gonna bring something for her as well.”

Bis perked his ears forward, looking hopeful. I reached under the island again and found the two coffee cans I had stashed there this morning in preparation for the trip. _Who says I can’t plan as well as Ivy? Pfft!_

I held up the first can and shook it a bit, the contents sounding like seeds rattling inside a maraca. “Fresh coffee grounds,” I explained, and tossed the can into the bag. “And,” I continued, “some river rocks from one of the flowerbeds in the garden,” I said, holding up the second can as its contents shifted. Bis flattened his ears against his head at the piercing sound of hard objects clanging against the metal of the can.

I rearranged the contents of the grocery bag to make room for the cans and suggested, “If we can soften Al up with food, maybe we can do the same for Treble.”

Bis eyed me in wary skepticism, then shrugged his wings. “It can’t hurt,” he agreed.

Bis spread his wings and floated down from his perch atop the refrigerator, landing on the center island with grace and skill and hardly making a sound.

“So where do you want me to jump us?” he asked. “The easiest way to locate Al will be for me to tune into him through your demon mark,” he explained, shifting his gaze to the scar on my arm that held the flourishing script of a circle and slash that was Al’s signature, evidencing that the person wearing the mark (that’d be me) owned the demon a favor. The whole concept of demon marks still made me a wee bit squeamish, but demons didn’t seem big on ‘trust’. They were like dogs, in a way, peeing on fire hydrants to mark their territory. Only demons did it with slightly more style, I’d give them that.

For half a second, I thought about what Bis had said. That… did not seem like a great idea. “Is there another way? One that won’t potentially put Al on high alert?”

“I dunno, Miss Rachel,” he admitted. “I’ve only been to Al’s place one time. Not enough to have remembered the exact resonance of his domain, though,” he confessed, bowing his head as if he was afraid he was letting me down.

“Hmm…,” I thought aloud, cocking my hip to the side. “Well, if that’s the way we need to do it, then that’s the way we’ll do it.”

Piling in the cherries on top of everything else, I took one last look at the contents of both bags, feeling confident I had packed everything I wanted to take with me. The only thing left to do was prepare the cake for transportation and then we were good to go.

“Hey, Bis, help me with something?”

“Sure, Miss Rachel,” he said.

“We’re going to put the cake on this,” I explained, retrieving a cake stand from one of the kitchen cabinets. The stand had a sturdy pedestal and was cut from heavy, lead crystal. My mom had given it to me before selling the rest of her worldly belongings and moving out West. It wouldn’t have been my style, but it had a domed lid that would hopefully keep my creation safe during transit. There was really no other option if I wanted the cake to arrive at Al’s in one piece.

Bis held the base of the stand as I held my breath and carefully slid the cake from the baking sheet onto the stand. Letting out a sigh of relief, I placed the dome on top.

“Okay, Bis. I’m ready when you are.”

Bis flew to rest on my shoulder, his tail wrapping around my upper arm.

“Here we go!” I proclaimed.

My heart was racing as if I’d done a hard sprint up Carew Tower. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and on a slow exhale, I spoke the incantation:

 _"Jam tibi impero et  
praecipio, libera me"_

Elven magic, wild and unpredictable, swirled around us in an invisible cyclone. The silver chain chimed in harmonic resonance, like the pulsing, soul-drenching tone produced by a Tibetan singing bowl. As the sound rang out, the wind around us smelled of grass and forest and I watched as the clasp of the bracelet suddenly released with a ping. The band that had kept me hidden from the demon collective for the past two weeks fell to the counter. An unseen hand began unbraiding the delicate metalwork, the individual silver strands then dissolving into a puff of white smoke that was carried away on the wild wind, leaving Bis and me in a deafening silence.

“Well,” I breathed, “time to see if I can tap a line. As soon as I do, Bis,” I said, looking at him perched on my shoulder, “do your thing. You handle the journey. I’ll circle my thoughts to keep us together.”

“You got it, Miss Rachel.”

I reached down and grabbed both bags, then gently grasped the base of the cake stand, placing one hand on top of the dome to keep the cake steady and secure.

My heart still racing, I reached out and attempted to connect with the small ley line that ran along the back of the church. I felt the line’s familiar energy rush into me in an instant, warm and welcoming like a favorite comfort food. Quickly, I spindled only a fraction of the energy I could hold in my chi, hoping it was enough to keep us together when we traveled the lines but not enough to alert the entire demon contingency to my apparent resurrection.

“Do it, Bis!” I shouted.

In an instant, I felt my body dissolve and instinctively circled my thoughts around Bis and myself, keeping our essence whole as we were propelled along the line at lightning speed.

We had traveled for what seemed like only a few seconds when I heard Bis echo in my thoughts. _We’re almost there, Miss Rachel._ And then world came back to me in a rush. I quickly looped my energy around us, pushing our souls back into our rematerialized bodies. A wave of nausea enveloped me but receded quickly. In the disorientation, I fumbled to maintain my balance and bumped my elbow on what felt like a piece of sturdy furniture, nearly dropping the cake.

“Ow!” I gasped, struggling to regain my equilibrium. _Why the hell do they call it the ‘funny bone’, godamnit? There is nothing funny about hitting it – ugh!_

The throbbing in my elbow retreated to a dull ache and I tried to get my bearings. The room was pitch black and somehow unfamiliar. I shifted my feet and the sound was muffled. I was definitely standing on a hardwood floor, but something was dampening the sounds – either tapestries or rugs, I was guessing, or a combination of both. The only room it could have been was Al’s library, but the smells were all wrong. This room smelled of old wood and earth, with the definite, masculine scent of sandalwood.

“Crap on toast,” I swore. “Where the hell are we?” I whispered to Bis.

“Can you jump down off my shoulder, Bis?” I asked. “I need you to hold the cake for a sec.”

Bis jumped and landed to my right, presumably onto whatever piece of furniture had assaulted my elbow. I felt his clawed hands brush mine as he grabbed onto the base of the stand. “Got it, Miss Rachel,” Bis replied, his voice a gravely hush.

I blindly reached into the grocery bag until my fingers found the waxy texture of a candle. I pulled it out and lit it with my thoughts, using the last of the remaining energy I had spindled in my chi.

The candle provided minimal light - not enough for me to be able to recognize where the hell we were.

“I don’t know where we are, Bis. Are we in a closet or something?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper. Maybe Al had managed to get that extra room from Tron? It had, after all, been a couple of weeks. And Al was one hell of an enterprising demon.

“I don’t think it’s a closet, Miss Rachel,” Bis replied.

“Well,” I said, “this isn’t the kitchen. And it isn’t the library. It’s not even the foyer,” I remarked, moving the candle around and squinting, trying to get a better sense of the room we had transported ourselves into. “Are you sure this is Al’s place?” I asked Bis.

“I’m sure, Miss Rachel. Al’s here. I followed his energy signature and this is where it led.”

I held the light out in front of me and looked down to find dark wood floorboards covered with what appeared to be an authentic Persian rug. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness but I was still disoriented. I took a tentative step forward and followed the outline of the rug until it met a chunky, intricately carved pillar in the same or similar wood as the floorboards. I raised the candle, tracing the outline of the pillar as I moved my gaze upwards with the light. My eyes followed the carvings as they rose up on a column that almost touched the ceiling before meeting a chunky, wooden canopy.

 _Oh, shit!_

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_

I froze - my pulse racing, my heart beating out of my chest.

I moved the candle slightly to my left. Dark fabric pooled next to the column of wood and cascaded to the floor, shifting slightly as the Al-shaped lump that lay beneath moved under the covers.

“Oh, shit, Bis!” I exclaimed. “You jumped us into Al’s bedroom!”


	3. The Reunion

I froze.

The demon beneath the sheets stirred once more, the shifting of covers sounding impossibly loud in the deadened silence of the bedroom. I struggled to regain control of my racing pulse, swallowing my fear and willing my body to still. If I could just hold still until Al settled back into a sound sleep, everything would be all right.

I no sooner had that thought when my nose started to itch. The telltale signs of a sneeze began to infiltrate my sinuses and, panicked, I took a few deep breaths as silently as I could in an attempt to quell the sneeze. At first I was afraid I was being summoned out of the ever-after, but it didn’t feel like the insistent, physical irritation of a summoning. Instead, it just felt like really, really bad luck. Shit, I thought. I inhaled deeply again and the earthy, almost musty smell of aged mahogany tickled my nose once more.

“Bis,” I whispered, “make yourself scarce!” My face contorted in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable. But I could feel myself losing the battle.

“Hmmfft..?” a male voice intoned from under the covers. _Crap on toast! He’s waking up…!_

“What’s wrong, Miss Rachel?” Bis asked, with worried concern.

“I think I’m gonna sneeze,” I warned, and Al groaned again as my eyes remained transfixed on the form of his body under the sheets.

“Oh, damn…” I sniffed, throwing back my head as the force of the sneeze ripped through my body, blowing out the candle I had been using for light.

Bis vanished in a red puff of ever-after. Al was on me in an instant. He grabbed my shoulders and threw me onto the bed. I was on my stomach with the full weight of Al’s body pushing me down into a mountain of bedding. His hands were on my wrists, pinning my arms to my sides.

“Don’t. Move!” Al growled, his breath hot against my neck.

Al muttered a word of Latin and his bedroom was bathed in soft light.

“Al, it’s me,” I pleaded, though I wasn’t certain how clear it came out with my face half-smooshed into the bedding. I struggled under his hold but it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to move anywhere unless he wanted to move me.

I heard him say something under his breath and the lights shone a bit brighter.

I gasped as Al flipped me around and I found myself in a similar position but on my back, my arms still pinned to my sides as he easily captured my tiny wrists with his large, warm hands.

“It’s me,” I repeated. “Al, it’s me…Rachel,” I continued, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing even if my pulse and breathing remained anything but.

A deep, resonant groan escaped from deep within Al’s chest – a seismic tremor that rattled the bed, the furniture, and some of the other things in the room that sounded like glasses in a china cabinet. If he broke my mom’s cake stand, I was going to be really pissed.

Al furrowed his brow and warned, “You have exactly five seconds to tell me who you are… and how, by my mother’s ashes, you breached my inner sanctum.” Al clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, pushing me further into the mattress, his body mirroring the severity of his threat.

But with my face so close to his, I could see subtle changes in his appearance that suggested Al might be growing weary of always having to use aggression to get his way.

Al looked tired.

And not the kind of tired of a demon who had just been woken from a sound sleep. The skin underneath his eyes was marred by deep, dark half-moons, suggesting Al hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in quite a few days. And I could have sworn there were a few more lines on the outer edges of his eyelids as well.

My eyes remained transfixed to Al’s angry, red, goat-slitted pupils. I swallowed hard, which brought his awareness to my lips. “Search my thoughts,” I blurted, without a thought. “It’s me, Al! Look at me! I’ll let you in… just… search my thoughts,” I suggested, in desperation. I did not want Al swimming in my consciousness again, but he would know it was me as soon as I let him in. And he had already been inside my thoughts on a few occasions, what the hell was one more?

Al raised a skeptical eyebrow and chuckled. “And have you capture my soul?” he said, shaking his head. He inhaled with a dramatic pause and said, “Oh, I don’t think so. Your five seconds are up, love,” he declared, and suddenly flooded me with line energy. Frightened, I began spindling as fast as I could. I looked down at my wrists and struggled to break free of Al’s grasp.

The line Al held was a strong one and the amount of energy he was able to hold was incredible. I started to sweat as some of the energy spilled over into my chi. It was coming too fast and he was going to fry my synapses faster than I could say ‘Crap on toast!’ I had to get away from him. I struggled under his weight and tried to wiggle my wrists out of his grasp. I looked down at my hands and saw a powerful, black curse dripping from Al’s fingers. The curse started to burn my wrists and it moved up my arms as Al began chanting in a language I could not identify.

I knew I only had moments before he burned me to a red-headed crisp.

“Search my soul!” I implored. “Al, you know me! Better than anyone else!”

And then, I just got pissed. “Godamnit, Al! I’m right here, in your bedroom, practically throwing myself at you, and you’re trying to kill me instead of trying to get into my pants? Wouldn’t you like to try another kiss?” I shouted.

“What’s the matter, Al?” I continued. “Afraid Newt will have to rescue you again?” I challenged.

Shock registered in Al’s eyes as he met mine once more. He knew it was me. Only he, Newt and I knew about the kiss Al and I had shared. Al had forced himself upon me in an encounter that ended with Newt having to rescue Al from my embrace when I almost pulled an entire line through him and fried his little, demon soul.

He knew it was me, but I let down my defenses anyway. If I let him in, there would be no doubt in his mind that I was who I said I was. I could feel his awareness aggressively enter into mine, probing and prodding the deep recesses of my soul. It was a disturbing yet familiar feeling, since Al had been inside my consciousness on more than one occasion now. I felt his anger, his worry, his disappointment and, finally, his loneliness, as he slowly retreated and left me alone in my body.

“Itch…. itchy witch…?” he stammered.

I nodded, still gasping for breath as I spindled the last bits of energy he had thrown my way.

He let go of my hands and rested one of his forearms alongside my head, as his other hand reached up to push my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief at the feel of his hand on my face.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Al smile in return. His eyes, however, still registered concern. “Why?” he asked. “Why now? Why did you wait so long?” he demanded, his voice sounding of one part hurt, one part betrayal.

I met Al’s pained expression for only an instant then looked away. It hurt me to see the raw emotion on his face. I couldn’t stand that I had possibly hurt him. Instead, I focused my gaze on Al’s sheets, only now appreciating the silky feel of their impossibly high thread-count. They were a deep forest green, subtly decorated with an arabesque pattern of snaking, intertwined vines, popular in 16th century European art. _Nice sheets,_ I thought.

Al cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. “I _said_ …” Al intoned, irritation evident in his voice, “why did you wait so long to let me know you were okay?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I just… needed some time to get my head on straight. And,” I added, “Trent… had to put me in a bottle until my body had recovered enough.”

Al snarled and sat up. The absence of his warm body pressed against mine left me shivering. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and looked over to see Al sitting at the head of the bed, a fair distance away from me. His arms were crossed in front of his body in a defensive posture. His back was rigid and his face registered nothing but anger. “That elf,” he spat, pointing a finger at me, “is going to get you killed!”

I sighed in frustration. “Oh, for the love of God… here we go again with the elf! Trent, Trent, Trent, Trent, Trent…” I mumbled. “What is up with your obsession with the elf?” I taunted, pointing at Al in return.

“ _My_ obsession?” Al chortled.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Yours,” I said, raising my eyebrows in challenge. I shook my head and looked down to see my sweater had ridden up, exposing my midriff. “I guess we’re going to go from almost killing each other to arguing with each other,” I muttered, running my hands over my sweater to smooth it back down over my hips.

“Great,” I huffed, continuing to adjust my top. “Perfect. Is this how a normal demon/demoness relationship is?”

I looked up and saw Al had cocked his head to the side, a curious expression on his face. _Wait. Did I just say“relationship”?_

It was then that I realized Al was completely naked. _Oookaaaaayyyy…_

“M…my aura was shredded beyond any ability to hold my soul…” I stuttered, grasping at an explanation that would satisfy Al as to why I had remained hidden from him for the better part of two weeks.

“You don’t think I know that?” Al roared. He might have been concerned before, but now he was pissed. “You were _dead_ , Rachel! I saw you like that!” he bellowed, uncrossing his arms and stalking over to me on his hands and knees.

Al was scaring me and I tried to scoot back across the bed, away from him, when he grabbed my shoulders and straddled me where I sat. “By the two worlds colliding,” he yelled, shaking me in his grasp. “Do you have _any_ idea how devast – ” his diatribe came to an abrupt stop.

 _He was devastated to have lost me?_

I looked into his eyes and a smile pulled at my face. _He had missed me. Just as I had missed him..._

“You think that’s _funny_?” he shouted in disgust. “The big, bad, nasty demon, reduced to ruin for mourning a witch,” he raged.

“No,” I corrected him. “It’s not funny, Al. I --- ”

“You don’t think I… feel… loss?” he barked. “That I feel pain?”

 _Oh, God. I didn’t want to hurt him…_

“Al, I…”

“That I feel _any_ thing?!” he continued.

Tears welled and spilled down my cheeks. I never meant to hurt him like this. “I’m so sorry, Al,” I said, shaking my head. “I was wrong,” I admitted. “I should have come sooner.”

He sighed and I felt some of the tension leave his body, his grasp on me loosening slightly. “You could have called me – you could have told me you were okay,” he reasoned. “After all we’ve been through” he hesitated, “I…I….” he stammered, at a loss for words. “I missed you, itchy witch,” he smiled, his voice suddenly softer and more tender.

I met his eyes and smiled, letting my gaze fall to his lips briefly before meeting his stare again. “I _missed_ you too, Al,” I said, relief coursing through my veins.

Al shifted his weight and sat back on his heels. He took my hands in his and leaned his forehead against mine. It felt comforting and good and we sat there like that for I don’t know how long. Still. Content.

After some time, I leaned back slightly and met Al’s eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I, uh… baked you a cake.” I reached up to carefully dab my eyes, certain my mascara or eyeliner would be running halfway down my face.

“Oh?” Al smirked.

I nodded and glanced over at the top of the dresser where the cake still stood safe in its dome. Al’s eyes tracked mine and his face lit with delight when he saw the confection.

“Is that…” he hesitated. “Is that a Black Forest cake?”

I nodded. “It is.”

He turned his head back to look at me and I licked my dry lips, tasting the saltiness of my drying tears. His eyes shifted to my lips and his stare transformed into a serious, lustful desire. “That’s my favorite,” he breathed.

Al knitted his brows in confusion, but playfulness was still evident in the smile of his eyes. “Why did you come here, itchy witch?” he asked, as if only now thinking about my presence in his bedroom. “You could have simply picked up your mirror and called me to let me know you were alive,” he reasoned. “Yet, you came in person. To me.”

“I… I don’t know,..” I stammered, my face turning red.

“Oh, yes you do,” he argued. “You’re a smart girl. You always have a plan, even if it’s a harebrained one,” he concluded, his eyes wide with amusement.

I shrugged. “I.. uh… wanted to let you know I was ok,” I said, looking at his lips instead of meeting his eyes.

His hand touched my face and he lifted my chin so I would have no choice but to meet his eyes. I was so nervous. Who knew what I would find there?

“Is that all?” he asked, running his index finger along my lower lip – a movement that sent faint tendrils of desire from my mouth all the way down to my groin with just that simple touch. I could have sworn I felt Al growing hard against my leg and the aching between my legs started getting stronger and more insistent.

“Y… yes?” I breathed. My hesitation was my undoing.

In a hearbeat, Al misted us off the bed and when we rematerialized, he was behind me, pinning me against the bedpost at the foot of his bed. He had easily captured my arms above my head and was pressing me into the bed frame with his strong, muscular body.

He leaned in to speak and his breath was warm and flirty against the back of my neck. “And that’s all you wanted to do… make sure I knew you were… alive?”

“Uhh..” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

“That’s why you straightened your hair…put on some makeup…” he commented, and he reached one hand down to untie my ponytail while maintaining his grip on my wrists with his other hand. He leaned into me to smell my shampoo and pushed my hair aside, placing a delicate kiss on my neck that made my knees buckle with desire.

Al shifted his posture to support my weight and moved his free hand down my shoulder… my rib cage… my waist.. my hip… Everywhere he touched left faint tingles of energy and desire. If he kept this up much longer, I would be begging to warm his bed.

“That’s why you wore this incredible pair of tight jeans…?” he remarked, and a sigh escaped me as his hand wandered hungrily down my side, cupping my butt. He shifted his stance and I felt his arousal pressed into my backside. Oh, yeah. Al was hard as a rock.

I moaned at the feel of his hand on me, at the feel of him rubbing against me. “I always dress like this,” I lied, my voice filled with deep desire.

“Oh, no you don’t, itchy witch,” he corrected, and he spun me around, my arms still captive above my head. Somewhere in the midst of everything, Al had dimmed the lights. But even in the dim light of the bedroom, I was sure Al could sense my arousal, my nipples hardening in response to his mere closeness.

I wanted this – wanted Al – but I thought that things might have been going too fast. So I tried to distract myself from the intensity of Al’s stare. I looked up at the canopy of his bed. The four, ornately carved wooden columns rose up to a large, wooden canopy. The canopy was intricately carved as well, containing sculptures of gargoyles interspersed with swirling, complex ley line symbols. Al’s bed pulsed with an energy that suggested the carvings in the wood held protective wards, making Al’s bedroom a sanctum that no one – not even Newt herself – could breach.

“You have a big bed, Al,” I commented, looking at the vastness of the bedding landscape that lay before us.

Al looked at his bed and then at me. “It is large and lonely. Much like some other things, Rachel,” he smirked. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Why did I come?” I repeated his question and looked down to see a very large, very ready Little Big Al pressed against my lower abdomen. I blushed three shades of red, but God help me – he felt so good pressed against me. My breath caught and I brought my eyes up to meet his once more.

Al’s smile was gone and in its place was hunger. “Yes,” he said simply. “Tell me what you want, Rachel,” he whispered, his eyes heavily lidded with barely contained desire.


	4. Seduction

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered again. Al leaned into me and began playfully nibbling my ear. Without using any ley line energy at all, he elicited a primal response from my body and a sensual moan escaped my lips. I arched my back, bringing my body closer to his as he continued to focus his ministrations on my ear, working his way down to my neck. He never once played on my scar and I already felt like I was three seconds from climaxing. 

I didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to admit aloud how much I yearned to feel his lips on mine once more – this time invited and needed. I didn’t want to admit how strongly my body craved his, somehow drawn to him like an oasis in a vast and barren desert.

No. I couldn’t say those words to him. Instead, I would show him. I still held the energy he had flooded me with earlier, and it was potent and pure. Every part of my being yearned to slip it back into him, slowly driving him mad with desire beyond the point of ecstasy.

Pulling slightly against the restraint he still maintained on my wrists, I shifted my body to move his head away from my neck and I thrust my mouth toward his, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Al’s lips were soft and full and my mouth was demanding. The taste of him invaded my senses as I carefully drew his bottom lip into my mouth – a playful game of dominance. Beyond the burnt amber were subtle zests of sandalwood and licorice and what I could have sworn was the characteristic, familiar scent of redwood. Cautiously, I began slipping some line energy into him, pushing it down the paths of his synapses and driving it all the way down to his groin as I continued teasing his mouth with my own. 

Al moaned with pleasure but pulled away, somehow keeping a firm grip on my hands which were still being held captive above my head.

He swallowed hard before speaking. 

“God, Rachel,” he sighed. “You are such a treasure.”

“But,” he amended, bringing his free hand up to gently stroke my cheek, “delightful though that was, that’s not you telling me what you want.”

“You know what I want,” I countered, my voice threaded with desire. “Stop playing with me,” I demanded, “and give me what I want.” I took another deep breath before my mouth once again seized his. This time the kiss was long and passionate, gentler than before, and he let my tongue slip past his lips to taste him more fully. I sent another pulse of energy into him, pushing it down the entire length of his body. I recalled all the paths and synapses the line energy traveled through his body, the pathways somehow like well-worn trails I could navigate in the dark without a flashlight or a map. It was as if I had navigated those trails many times, even though I had only explored them once before. Maybe it was the demoness in me speaking, but this felt so right. Here… with him.

Another satisfied groan escaped from Al, but once again he broke the kiss and his lips retreated from mine. Damn. He had much more control than I gave him credit for.  
His hungry eyes briefly focused on mine. “I need to hear you say it, Rachel,” he whispered, closing his eyes in quiet concentration. “I want this,” he admitted. This time Al initiated the kiss and his eager mouth found mine once more, sending back to me the energy I had spilled into him and more. When he broke the kiss we were both struggling to catch our breath. 

“I want this more than you can possibly imagine,” he said, his eyes now wandering down my body and pulling almost as much feeling from me as our energy exchange had. My hips moved with a rhythm of their own and I hooked my leg around Al’s naked, muscled body, pushing my lower body against his and rubbing his erection against my groin as I continued writhing against him. In response, Al’s free hand dropped to my leg, a desperate sigh escaping my lips as he kneaded and teased, running his hand up and down my thigh and grinding his hips into mine, letting me feel his excitement. I needed him inside me. Now. Why the hell was I still wearing clothes?  
“But I need to hear it from you,” Al continued, bringing me back to the present. “I won’t have you accusing me of forcing myself on you. I need to know,” he said, more tentative and vulnerable than I had ever heard Al be. “I need to hear you say that you want this as much as I do.”

I was fearless when it came to so many things in my life, but admitting I wanted him scared me more than just about anything. He was right, godamnit. And I knew it. I had rejected his advances many times before, resentful when he tried to use power and manipulation to have his way with me. But this time it was different. I had come to him – ready, willing, hopeful… that this is where the path would lead us. There was only one thing left that concerned me.

“What… what about Newt?” I asked. “I don’t want to endanger your life because of my decision.”

“Don’t worry about Newt. We will deal with that together when the time comes,” he explained. “Right now, Rachel, there is only you and me and no one can touch us here. I promise you.” 

With those three words, I abandoned all remaining inhibitions. “I want you, Al,” I confessed, meeting his eyes without blinking. “And I need you,” I continued. “Let go of my hands and take me to your bed,” I demanded.


	5. Consummation

Satisfaction rippled through Al’s body and he instantly released his grip on my hands. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, lacing my hands behind his head and entwining my fingers in his silky hair that was slightly wavy yet so much softer than my own. Al gripped the back of my head with one hand, pulling me into a savage kiss. There were no remnants of gentleness or patience this time but, instead, the ravenous hunger of a man who’d endured millennia of starvation. Al lifted me up, cupping my butt with his large hands and I wrapped my legs around his waist, helping him support my weight. Not that Al needed my help – he was strong, both magically and physically, and I had no doubt he could handle three times my weight without even breaking a sweat.

Al slowly backed us up to his bed, as our mouths and arms dove into each other and we barely broke our embrace for breath. Al’s mattress sat high off the ground and he positioned me on the edge, with me still fully clothed and my legs still wrapped around him and us still panting and groping each other with feral abandon. Al broke our kiss but our bodies remained entwined. With him still standing, my eyes came up to the level of his chest. Al’s chest was broad and heavily muscled and my eyes slowly traveled down the considerable length of his body, appreciating his well-defined abs that ended lower on his body at the slight indentation of chiseled hips only men seem to be able to achieve after hours in the gym. Perhaps the sexiest part of Al’s body was the patch of hair starting right below his belly button and I bit my lower lip, reaching out to trace that winding, sexy path with my fingers, following it all the way down to his parts below. _Oh, God… I had almost forgotten how large his parts below actually were…_

Al trembled with pleasure and grabbed my hand before I had the chance to explore any further. I shivered slightly as a subtle wash of ever-after flowed over me, leaving me clothed in only my black tank top and my black, lace hipster panties. My sweater, jeans, boots and socks had disappeared elsewhere and I couldn’t have cared less if I ever saw them again. Al knelt down between my legs and his face was now level with mine.  
“Mmmm… delightful,” Al purred, his gaze settling low on my body. “Black lace panties. I knew it!” His eyes traveled lazily up my body to meet mine once more. “You naughty, naughty witch!” he breathed. I felt my cheeks flush as his very precise, British inflection made the “naughty” seem all the more lascivious.

I dropped my eyes briefly, looking down at my half naked body before bringing my gaze to meet his. “That’s cheating, you know. Half the fun is in the undressing, Al,” I smiled, giving him a look that was both sultry and demure.

“Undressing is for those with patience, itchy witch,” Al countered, his eyes wild with lust and something deeper. “And right now, I am not a patient demon.”

With that, Al licked his lips and lifted me up under my arms, tossing me further back onto his bed and following me on his hands and knees, his hulking erection pointing like a compass, guiding the way to its erotic destination between my legs. My long legs were still spread wide, and as Al came towards me he paused, focusing his attention on my left leg and using one hand to stroke the back of my calf, while his mouth licked and kissed its way from my ankle to parts north. With each touch of his lips, Al drove ley line energy along my nerve endings – a rhythmic pulsing of energy that damn near mimicked the feel of penetration, bringing desperate cries from me as his focused pulses stimulated my clitoris and the heavy, aching in my groin grew in intensity. Al’s eyes never left mine as he worked his way up my calf, past my knee, and upward – the look on his face was one of conquest and something far more mysterious. Al loved being dominant and in this moment, I wanted to be conquered. Al paused when he reached my inner thigh, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply to smell my arousal. I shook and moaned as another wave of excitement coursed through my groin and I hooked my other leg on Al’s shoulder. A pleasurable rumble escaped from somewhere deep in his chest as he moved his other hand under my butt, leveraging himself closer towards my crotch by tugging playfully at the side of my panties. Al opened his eyes, looking at me once more as he continued licking and sucking the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, driving even more powerful pangs of energy into my body and shocking me with a mini-orgasm that caused my other leg to spasm slightly along his back. 

Al never gave me time to recover as he moved his focus to the sensitive area beneath my panties. With him now within my reach, I placed my hands on either side of his head and focused my thoughts on sending back the energy he had pushed into me. My hands began glowing with the pure, white energy of the ley line we were playing in, and I sent slow pulses of energy through his body, traveling the length of his spine.  
“Oh, God, Rachel,” Al sighed, closing his eyes and shivering with excitement as small goosebumps rose to the surface of his skin. “It’s been so long since…” he confessed. He seemed temporarily lost in a world of his own. “I can’t remember…,” he began again, his thoughts trailing off as he caught himself before revealing any more.

Al quickly shook himself and his reverie evaporated. He opened his eyes, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he began teasingly nipping and sucking the small, sensitive bud of skin just above my opening. I pulled his face towards me, my mouth pleading to claim his once more and Al happily indulged my demands, pushing up on his forearms and positioning himself comfortably between my legs. Al suspended himself above me on his strong forearms and with us now perfectly aligned, I wrapped my legs around his waist once more, my arms holding him close to me, welcoming him into my body’s embrace. Al’s tongue dove forcefully past my lips, energy passing between us in a constant volley for control. 

The straps of my tank top slid down my shoulders and I felt Al’s large, warm hand reach down between my legs, impatiently pushing aside my panties and rubbing his fingers along the folds of my skin, parting them slightly. His probing fingers quickly discovered the slick moisture hidden within those folds. I knew I’d already be soaked. “Sweet mother of chaos,” Al exclaimed, pushing his fingers into my wetness and taking the opportunity to pull the line through my groin, the thrill of Al’s energy and the feel of his fingers inside me driving me dangerously close to orgasm as he kept his thumb outside me, pressing and stroking my clitoris. I ran my hands down the length of Al’s broad, muscular back, grabbing his butt and pushing him further into my lap. I could feel his cock, large and thick against my hip, throbbing with pleasure each time his fingers entered me, my hips bucking to meet the rhythm of his masterful touch. 

“Al,” I gasped. Small beads of sweat crawled to the surface of my skin and the warm, tingling ache between my legs was growing unbearable. “I can’t take much more of this,” I confessed, tugging at the side of my panties with an impatient hand. I wanted them off. Now.

With another shimmer of ever-after, I found myself completely naked underneath him, my frame small, soft and lithe underneath Al’s large, hard, powerful body. My nipples were hard as pebbles, thankfully making my breasts look larger than they actually were. They were small but round, high and firm and as I arched my back, Al wasted no time in partaking of their offering, pulling each into his mouth in turn and spilling more of the ley line into me with each flick of his tongue.

With a subtle shift of his hips, I could feel him push slightly at my opening and though I knew I was dripping wet and wanted him inside me more than anything, I started to panic.

My body tensed. 

“Al!” I exclaimed.

“Mmmmm..” he crooned, taking my words as a declaration of sexual arousal instead of a proclamation of nervous uncertainty. 

I could feel the head of his cock probing my wetness and starting to push into me with more pressure. “Ummm… Al?” I said more softly and knew he could sense the unease in my voice.

He pulled away from my mouth, his brow creased with concern. “Yes, itchy witch?” he replied.

“You’re hung like a horse!” I blurted, my eyes wide in alarm.

Al grinned, a roguish, deeply smug and satisfied expression. “Why, thank you, Rachel,” he replied.

_Oh, for the love of God – leave it to Al to take it as a compliment!_

“No. Umm… I mean, yes…” I muttered, completely flustered. “I mean, I’ve never… I don’t know if I can… you know… ummm… accommodate you.” There, I said it – and risked the chance of quite possibly dying of embarrassment. Not to mention completely killing the mood. Ugh.

Al, though, remained completely unaffected. 

“Relax, Rachel. You will be just fine,” he said. He smiled again, this time with no hint of arrogance. His smile rekindled a thrill of excitement low in my groin and the nervousness vanished, my body relaxing into his once more. 

“How do you know?” I asked, my raspy voice a reflection of my arousal. 

Al leaned into me, bringing his lips to my ear. “Magic!” he whispered before gently biting my ear lobe. 

I clasped my hands behind Al’s head, threading my fingers through the soft waves of his hair. Reclaiming my lips, he flooded me again with line energy and began humming a soft, barely audible chant – an enchanting melody in a foreign tongue. Immediately, I was overcome with wetness. Hot, slippery moisture spilled out of me, some of it coating the underside of Al’s hardness, some of it running down my leg and onto the sheets. I felt Al press into me once more, the tip of his large shaft poised at my entry. With another breath, Al continued his lyrical mantra and my body instantly responded, opening to him like an orchid opening its petals to the first rays of sunlight seeping through a dense jungle canopy. I felt him slipping into me easily, my muscles completely relaxed and welcoming. 

Al took his time, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there was none. I gasped and sighed with each push, but only with cries of pleasure. With each inch he gave, he pulled back slightly before slipping further into me until he was fully inside. He filled me completely, more than any man ever had, and I dug my heels into the mattress, pulling him out slightly and pushing him back into me, letting him know I was ready for more.  
Al needed no further coaxing. With one smooth movement, he pulled out of me nearly completely before plunging his way back into my warm, wet tightness. He pushed into me slowly a few more times before finding a faster, pounding, tantalizing rhythm that was just the right side of the pleasure-pain threshold. I writhed and convulsed underneath him, crying out in rapture with each forceful thrust. 

Our bodies grew warm and sweaty as our dance continued; our fucking an erotic mixture of carnal, physical indulgence and otherworldly energy exchanges that were both taunting and exhilarating. Al was a master at pushing me right to the edge of unbridled ecstasy only to pull me back before my body reached its climax. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I lost track of Al’s hypnotic melody and I was halfway to orgasm once more when a particularly powerful thrust caused a twinge that was more pain than pleasure. I gasped and clawed at Al’s sheets and was about to push him away when, sensing my discomfort, Al resumed his spellful chanting and my body once again became completely pliant under his touch. 

Al reached down, stroking my leg as he continued shoving his hard cock into me. I flexed and shifted my position slightly, bringing my knees to rest on his shoulders. He could explore me even deeper in this position and he wasted no time indulging himself, pushing into me faster and faster. With each thrust of his pelvis, I drove ley line energy into his chi and Al moaned with delight before spilling it back into mine. 

Al altered his chanting slightly and our auras were suddenly visible – bright, golden halos of light, untarnished by the blackness of demon smut. Al’s eyes seemed to grow darker, the red retreating slightly, revealing a deep, rich chocolaty brown. I could feel Al continuing to pull energy from the line he held, pushing it into me until my chi was at capacity, the excess energy spilling over the brim. We were suddenly bathed in the brilliant, white light of the ley line – its resonance pure and powerful, singing in every nerve and synapse of both Al’s body and mine. It was intoxicating. I was so close to losing control. And I was pretty sure Al was as well.

“Mmm, Al!” I moaned, as one of his thrusts hit me just right. A few more thrusts in the same area and I would be rocked by a climax that I was sure would be felt all throughout the ever-after and reality.

Taking my legs off his shoulders, I gently rocked my hips in time with Al’s rhythm and grabbed his butt, pushing him deeper inside me and thrusting my pelvis up to meet his pushes, digging my heels into the bed for added leverage.

“Oh, _Rachel_..” Al moaned. “You’re… I’m… _ohhhhh!_ ” Al cried out, and with one final push, his entire body spasmed, his hard, swollen muscle spilling his hot seed deep within me. 

_Wait… ummmm…_

The white light of our merged auras disappeared, leaving us mere flesh and bone once more, and Al convulsed with a few more, violent aftershocks, his body writhing against mine as I felt him growing softer inside me.  
Al’s face was buried in the covers next to my head and I lifted my right hand, bringing it to rest on the back of Al’s head and slowly sifting his hair with my fingers while contemplating what had just happened.

Don’t get me wrong. The sex was incredible. But the bastard had finished without me!

“Umm… Al?” I said, after his body had stilled and our breathing returned to normal.

Al pushed himself up onto his forearms and looked at me. “Rachel… I…” he stammered.

I cocked my head to the side, at first knitting my brows in annoyance that was only partly feigned. And then, I raised my eyebrows and smirked, no longer able to contain my amusement. Because it was freaking hilarious. My big, bad, Casanova of a demon had just finished without me. 

Oh, yeah. I was definitely going to bust his balls on this one.


	6. A Postcoital Discussion

I tilted my head to the side and gave Al a look of incredulous wonder.

“Did you just finish?” I chortled, narrowing my eyes as they met his.

“No!” he retorted. “Uh.. yes, I mean. No. It’s just… bugger,” he cursed. An entire string of expletives spewed forth from his mouth ending in “… buggering bollocks…” before he looked at me in abject horror.   
“Rachel, I … I don’t know what just happened,” he gasped. “This has never happened to me before,” he confessed, his face flushed with embarrassment. 

I knew he must have been mortified, but I…giggled. I couldn’t help it. 

“It’s not funny, Rachel,” he chastised.

Al slowly slid out of me, inch by blissful inch, and I shuddered. My body still craved his, still craved its release and was reluctant to let him depart our intimate embrace. Al rolled off me and laid on his back staring up at the bed’s canopy. 

“No,” I said. “Well,” I qualified my answer. “It is a _little_ funny,” I smiled, another giggle escaping my lips.

“Damn it back to the Turn! In over 5,000 years this has never once happened to me!” he exclaimed. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled, almost to himself. 

I looked over at him but his stare remained distant, his mind almost certainly searching for an explanation instead of engaging in a detailed analysis of the runic symbols decorating the intricately carved canopy of his bed.  
I touched his arm and was pleasantly surprised when he made no attempt to break the connection. I had no idea he would take things so seriously. Could he really be upset about finishing before me? Could Al possibly be thinking of me as something more than his demonic booty call?

“You know, most one-night stands end up with one person finishing before the other,” I joked.

Al sat up and looked at me, his eyes squinted in annoyance.

“Is that what you think this was?” he asked, the inflection of his voice reflecting both anger and disgust. “Is that what you think I was after? A one-night stand?” he continued, the volume and weight of his voice growing with each question.

 _Isn’t that what you wanted it to be_ , I thought.

_What do you want, Al?_

But cowardice won out – I was too afraid of his answer to even ask. Which would frighten me more? That he would say ‘yes’? Or that he would say ‘no’?

“Um…” I muttered and my eyes searched his in a desperate attempt to think of how best to respond.

 _Should I just come out and ask him_ , I thought. 

But just as I had worked up the courage, Al’s eyes softened and he turned away from me, fixating on the dresser across the room.

“Oh, look!” he exclaimed. “Cake! Let’s have some.”

Al sprung up out of bed and I blinked a few times, my mind scrambling to recover from the verbal and emotional whiplash.

_Never mind, then. Back to the levity…_

“So you think that performance is worthy of a reward, do you?” I teased.

I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of standing naked in front of Al, despite our recent romp in the sheets in our birthday suits. But I wasn’t about to let him indulge himself in the cake just yet. I pushed into a sitting position and scooted off the bed, my long legs striding across the room to where Al stood poised to lift the domed lid of the cake stand.

I grabbed his wrist and turned him around to face me. “I don’t _think_ so, buddy” I commanded, biting my lower lip and playfully jabbing a pointed finger into his chest.

“I worked long and hard to make that cake and you are not getting a piece of it ‘til you get me to the finish line,” I declared, my eyes twinkling with excitement at the thought of bedding him once more. 

I was used to our verbal sparring and expected him to come back with something sharp and witty. But instead, Al frowned. 

_Oh, boy._

The levity was not working as I had hoped so I decided it was time to change tactics.

“Al, it’s ok” I said, gently touching his shoulder. “It happens,” I said, smiling. “It’s really no big deal,” I shrugged.

“It _is_ a big deal, Rachel! I’ve _always_ been able to pleasure a woman!” he declared. “Without… finishing… first,” he huffed.

Frowning, Al flicked his wrist and a black silk robe appeared. He shrugged into it as a shimmer of ever-after flickered next to him, materializing an identical robe in emerald green. 

Al shook the garment and held it up so I could twist into it. I threaded my arms through the sleeves and tied the belt, securing the front of the robe. I was pleased for the modicum of modesty it offered me. For the love of the Turn, the man had been inside me – why I was uncomfortable standing naked in front of him was beyond me.

My mind grew soft with desire at the thought of having him inside me once more, a sharp pang of need causing a throbbing ache in my groin, and I suddenly became more brazen. 

“So,” I said, turning around to meet him head on. I touched his shoulder and a naughty grin pulled at my lips. “Let’s do it again.” 

Al’s frown deepened and he crossed his arms in front of his body. “I might be a demon, Rachel,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “But even I need a little recovery time.”

I laughed. “I didn’t mean now.” Well, I sorta did. Crap, I needed to act fast and stroke his ego before he decided we should never have sex again. And, God help me, I wanted to fuck him again. He may have finished without me, but it was still the most amazing sex I had ever had. I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but I couldn’t wait to do it again.

“Does this place have a bathroom, Al?” I asked. “Why don’t we have a nice bath and relax for a bit?”

Al inhaled deeply, sighing and uncrossing his arms on a slow exhale. He ran one hand through his hair, his face showing calculated thought.

“That sounds wonderfully dangerous,” he said. “There’s plumbing in there. Pipes.”

I knew what he was implying – that it wouldn’t be secure. Anyone could drop by to find us. Not just anyone, however. 

_Newt_.

“Well,” I said, “you said we would deal with her together.”

Al barked with laughter. “Yes, I did. I was hoping we’d both be clothed when we had to cross that particular bridge.”

I nodded. I couldn’t disagree.

“A brush and wash curse would be more expeditious. And healthier for our long term survival,” he stated, some of the mirth leaving his eyes as he grew serious once more.

“It’s not quite the same, though,” I sighed.

“So, no bath,” I said, and it was impossible to leave the disappointment out of my voice. I wouldn’t get to experience a slippery, soapy, post-coital moment with him and I could now think of nothing else.

Silence descended for a few heartbeats before Al stepped towards me and wrapped his arms possessively around my waist.

I closed my eyes briefly and lost myself in the warmth of his body. _God_ , I thought, _I could get used to this_.

I opened my eyes, raising my chin to meet his gaze. 

Al, however, did not look disappointed.

Instead, his eyes danced with devious delight and with a shimmer of ever-after, he jumped us into a line and we left the security of his bedroom behind.


	7. A Bath

We rematerialized in a room where exposed beams of aged oak adorned the ceiling. Off to one side, supporting members traveled to the floor, framing out an elevated area containing what looked to be an antique dressing table and a settee upholstered in silk damask. I wondered if they were remnants of his time with Ceri.

The floor was of irregularly shaped stone slabs, fitted together virtually seamlessly and warm under foot instead of dank and cold – comfortably heated by some unknown source.

Al stepped from me and walked to the other side of the room where a beautiful claw-foot tub sat like a large copper dragon, resting its oil rubbed bronze talons against the stone floor. Steam rose and frothed over its edges, cascading to the ground in a waterfall of fog. 

Al had impeccable taste. His bathroom felt earthy and rustic – like it had been lifted from the showroom of Restoration Hardware.

I watched as Al disrobed and stepped into a bath that had already been drawn, quickly sinking below the surface of the water before reemerging and bringing his hands up to slick the water from his eyes. I quite enjoyed watching Al’s backside and was a little disappointed by how quickly the view vanished.

Candlelight from well-placed sconces and a wrought iron chandelier overhead illuminated Al’s profile as he sat in the tub, the water running in rivulets along the muscles of his arms. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he looked over at me. I was still standing in the same place we had materialized, taking it all in.

“Join me, Rachel” he said. “This was your idea, after all.”

I wanted to go to him but this whole thing still felt so otherworldly. I didn’t think it was the danger attracting me. It was him. Not that Al wasn’t dangerous, of course. But it was then that I realized my feelings for him went deeper than I let myself admit. And, with that revelation, and completely thrown off my game, I didn’t quite know how to act.

I licked my lips and walked over to the tub, enjoying the feel of the warm stones beneath my feet. As I got closer I saw that the bath had a smooth, white porcelain interior and was easily large enough to fit both of us comfortably.

I started to untie my robe, shrugging the top portion of it down my shoulders, when I felt Al’s attention on me and looked up to see his eyes traveling my body, focusing on areas of exposed skin. My neck. My shoulders. My legs, peeking out through the slit of the flimsy silk fabric.

I felt my face flush with heat. 

“You look…,” I said, my voice trailing off as I searched for an apt descriptor.

Despite his look of near unbridled desire, Al remained playful as his eyes met mine.

“Sexy?” he suggested. 

I leaned my hip against the side of the bathtub, holding the front of the robe together like I was clinging to the last vestiges of my questionable virtue.  
Al moved closer, propping one elbow on the side of the tub. He brought his chin to rest on his palm in a casual pose. “Irresistible?” he continued, lowering his head – a few damp waves of hair falling forward on his brow. His flirtatious gaze stared up at me in feigned innocence – puppy dog eyes disguising the rabid wolf underneath.

Yes, he was dangerous. But then so was I. I couldn’t help but think I was looking at him the same way he was looking at me. And I knew exactly how to describe it.

“Hungry,” I breathed, not bothering to hide my desire.

“ _Starved_ ,” he countered, and I yelped as he lifted himself up and grabbed the front of my robe, pulling me into the water on top of him, his lips claiming mine as their own.

Water crashed against the side of the tub, splashing over the side and soaking the floor where Al’s robe lay coiled like a black adder sunning itself on the warm stone tile. 

I laughed against Al’s lips and felt his mouth smile against mine in return.

My robe, now drenched in bathwater, stuck to my skin like wet toilet paper.

I lifted one arm out of the water to show Al. “I think this is done for,” I said.

Al nodded. “Indeed. Utterly useless, blasted thing,” he said. Al smiled as a wash of ever-after rid my body of the offending garment.

I turned around, my back now facing his chest, and leaned into him, sinking further down into the warm water.

As if on cue, we both sighed, well orchestrated murmurings of pleasant contentment. Our bodies and souls in resonant harmony, Al wrapped his arms around me and began washing my shoulders with a delicate cloth and an aromatic bar of soap he manifested from nowhere.

He used the cloth to wet the top of my head – the only portion of me which remained dry – and I tilted my head back to keep the water from streaming into my eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands gently massaging my scalp.  
“Mmm..” Al crooned. “This is quite delightful. I have experienced many things in my long existence but never this,” he mused, his hands moving down my neck to lather my shoulders. Al pushed me forward slightly and began working his way down my back.

“Never?”

“Mmmm,” he intoned, a noncommittal moan. 

“What about with Ceri?”

Al paused, uncomfortable silence hanging in the air like a leaden balloon. A silence that persisted for so long I had given up hope Al would ever answer.

“The relationship between demon and familiar is not the same as that which exists between demons… between demon and demoness…” he stated before summarily resuming his work on my backside.  
That did not really seem like an answer to my question, but it didn’t seem right to push him any further.

“Al?”

“Yes, Rachel?”

I didn’t want to pry. But I couldn’t help but ask.

“When was the last time you were with a demoness?”

“That…” he replied, “was a very long time ago.”

It didn’t sound like he really wanted to talk about it, but at least this time his hands continued their heavenly ministrations.

“I’m sorry, Al,” I said. It was all I could think to say.

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Before we trapped ourselves in this miserable hellhole. Before Newt lost her fucking mind and destroyed everything we ever cared about. Everything we ever loved.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice softer, barely above a whisper.

Al stilled once more. 

_Damnit_ , I thought. _I don’t want to hurt him. What the hell was I thinking, asking him that_?

“I told you once before I didn’t need your pity and I still don’t,” he said, his accent stronger and his words clipped, his voice mirroring the subtle tension that had returned to his body.

“It’s not pity, Al, it’s empathy,” I said, leaning back into him.

Taking one of his large hands in both of mine, I slowly wove my fingers in between his and thought I could feel some of the tension leaving his body.

“Don’t think for one second I don’t know what it’s like to feel loss,” I added quietly. Having trekked through my subconscious more times than Sherpas up Everest, Al knew the truth of my words.

He resumed his stroking and his voice softened. “I don’t need your empathy either, my itchy witch. But never mind that. You’re here now. And here you shall stay,” he said.

I sighed again – this time not all that pleasantly. How many times had we had this argument? And how many times had I said “no”?

I pushed out of his hold and turned to face him, leaning my back against the opposite side of the bathtub. My long legs stretched out on either side, coming to rest atop his strong, muscular thighs.

“We’ve already had this conversation. Many times. My life in reality. Business to run. Friends who care about me. You know I can’t stay here, Al,” I said.

“Yes, you can. And yes, you will,” he commanded, seizing one of my feet in his warm hands, the calluses now softened at the water’s behest. He held my heel with one hand and used his other hand on the sole of my foot, kneading and massaging, and I instantly forgot what we had been arguing about – the touch of his hand having turned my muscles to soft noodles cooked well past a chewy al dente. 

“You came to me, Rachel. Willingly,” he said – Al the Barrister laying out the facts of his case.

I closed my eyes and sunk lower in the water.

“Mmm…,” I moaned and nodded slightly, leaning my head back against the rim of the tub and completely giving in to the feel of Al’s caresses. “I did.”

“You wanted me,” he said.

“I did,” I agreed. No use denying it now.

“You want me,” he continued, and the movement of his hands ceased once more.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. Soft, brown waves of shoulder-length hair curled at the ends from the water and humidity of the bathroom, a few pieces still artfully sticking to his brow and the sides of his neck. The dark, ruddy complexion of his skin was a striking contrast against the paleness of mine yet somehow created the perfect complement. And finally, his intelligent eyes, brilliant red orbs whose true color remained hidden, victim to the same ancient elven curse that viciously stunted all demon offspring, effectively rendering the demons magically neutered. 

Our relationship was so complicated but what he said was true. 

I did want him. 

Present tense.

I nodded. 

“I want you,” I said. Pulling my foot back from his grasp, I shifted my body up out of the water and came towards him, my thighs coming to rest on either side of his.

The wave created by the movement of my body welled and crested, crashing against the sides of the tub and sending more water onto the warm stone floor below.

Al smiled. “So it’s settled. You will stay with me. Here,” he said. I didn’t know if he was mandating obedience or just assuming all debate was over – his words a mere statement of fact rather than a demand of possession – though his grip on my arms was a bit harder than I would have liked and suggested that possession was not far from his true desire.

Taking his face in my hands, I traced my fingers gently over his brow, brushing the hair back from his face and his eyes briefly fluttered shut. “You don’t own me, you know,” I said gently, correcting any misunderstanding he may have of ownership. “I’m here because I choose to be here, Al.”

I could feel my pulse in my throat and the only sound was that of the water, gently lapping at the sides of the tub, as I awaited his reply.

Al opened his eyes and took one of my hands in his, bringing it to his mouth as he kissed my fingers in a surprisingly chaste yet sensual gesture.

“I won’t lose you again, itchy witch,” he said.

Hearing Al say those words plucked a chord in the center of my chest, stirring emotions I hadn’t felt since Kisten.

 _Oh, my God_ , I thought. _I’m falling for him. Could he be falling for me too? And how, for the love of the Turn, could we ever make this work…_?

I felt Al looking at me, searching my face for confirmation of something. I smiled, eyes heavily lidded with desire, determined to pilot us around these uncharted waters of honesty and feelings. Feelings were a complicated storm. Sex and desire were calmer waters, easily navigated with a trusty compass and a strong, sure wind billowing the sails. And I was determined to remain a competent captain, guiding our ship away from the brewing gale of deeper emotion.

And besides – Al owed me a mind-blowing climax, damnit!

“I said I want you,” I repeated, deflecting the conversation elsewhere. I leaned into him and brought my arms to rest on his shoulders, gently playing with his damp locks of dark hair and stroking the smooth skin at the back of his neck with my hand.

Al’s eyes flashed with excitement and something deeper – a fondness that was not there before. “Yes,” he nodded. “You did.” 

“And you,” I said, touching my finger to his chest, “want cake!” 

Al chuckled and put his arms around me, his strong hands pulling my body further into his.

“Or perhaps …,” he said, and I silenced him with my mouth before he could continue.

“… I want..” he continued, trying to get a word in edgewise while my tongue had his otherwise occupied, engaged in a lustful jousting match.

I shook my head and smiled, giving his mouth a brief reprieve.

“Stop talking, Al,” I said, bringing a finger to his lips and he nipped at it with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. I bit my lower lip and continued. “Time for round two!”

His arms snaked down my back and, grabbing my derriere, he pressed into me. I could feel him hardening against my inner thighs, the sensation driving me wild.

“God, you feel so good, Al.”

I arched my back and he kissed his way along my neck. I wiggled my hips, rubbing myself along the entire length of him, and felt his cock throbbing with need at the tantalizing, silky touch of my sex.

“Good God, Rachel,” Al moaned. 

He brought his hands to either side of my face, pulling my mouth towards his. I prepared myself for the feel of his demanding lips, inhaling and filling my head with the dizzying scents of sandalwood soap and the earthy, masculine scent that was all Al when suddenly, he vanished beneath me.

I yelped and fell forward, face-first into the bathtub, the jarring sting of water invading my nostrils. I almost hit my head on the hard porcelain on the bottom of the tub, but flung my arms out in time to prevent an underwater concussion. 

Twisting below the surface of the water, I sat up, snorting and coughing the soapy water out of my nose and throat. 

“What the hell, Al!” I shouted.

I wiped the water from my eyes before opening them to find a frail, bald, ugly-footed person standing stoically at the foot of the tub. She wore a martial arts style robe of deep wine, decorated with dragons and serpents that had been delicately embroidered into the rich fabric with fine, golden thread.

Across the room, a very dry and very clothed Al was seated on a wooden stool, his legs crossed and arms resting on his knee.

There he sat.

Cool.

Calm.

Casual.

 _Nothing to see here, folks_!

“Newt!” Al exclaimed. “Welcome. What are you doing here, love?” He was putting on the charm but I could tell from his expression he was nervous as hell.

Newt, in complete disregard of Al’s greeting, looked only at me and nothing else.

“Good afternoon, Rachel,” she said. Her voice was flat and her stare, strange eyes that were completely black lid-to-lid, never left me.

“Uh… hi…?” I stammered, pushing my hair back behind my ears in an attempt to look more presentable.

Me.

Here.

Naked.

In Al’s tub.

 _Yeahhhh_ …

“You’re looking remarkably…” she said.

“…wet…?” I finished.

She smiled. 

“Alive.”


	8. The Reunion

I froze.

The demon beneath the sheets stirred once more, the shifting of covers sounding impossibly loud in the deadened silence of the bedroom. I struggled to regain control of my racing pulse, swallowing my fear and willing my body to still. If I could just hold still until Al settled back into a sound sleep, everything would be all right.

I no sooner had that thought when my nose started to itch. The telltale signs of a sneeze began to infiltrate my sinuses and, panicked, I took a few deep breaths as silently as I could in an attempt to quell the sneeze. At first I was afraid I was being summoned out of the ever-after, but it didn’t feel like the insistent, physical irritation of a summoning. Instead, it just felt like really, really bad luck. Shit, I thought. I inhaled deeply again and the earthy, almost musty smell of aged mahogany tickled my nose once more.

“Bis,” I whispered, “make yourself scarce!” My face contorted in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable. But I could feel myself losing the battle.

“Hmmfft..?” a male voice intoned from under the covers. _Crap on toast! He’s waking up…!_

“What’s wrong, Miss Rachel?” Bis asked, with worried concern.

“I think I’m gonna sneeze,” I warned, and Al groaned again as my eyes remained transfixed on the form of his body under the sheets.

“Oh, damn…” I sniffed, throwing back my head as the force of the sneeze ripped through my body, blowing out the candle I had been using for light.

Bis vanished in a red puff of ever-after. Al was on me in an instant. He grabbed my shoulders and threw me onto the bed. I was on my stomach with the full weight of Al’s body pushing me down into a mountain of bedding. His hands were on my wrists, pinning my arms to my sides.

“Don’t. Move!” Al growled, his breath hot against my neck.

Al muttered a word of Latin and his bedroom was bathed in soft light.

“Al, it’s me,” I pleaded, though I wasn’t certain how clear it came out with my face half-smooshed into the bedding. I struggled under his hold but it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to move anywhere unless he wanted to move me.

I heard him say something under his breath and the lights shone a bit brighter.

I gasped as Al flipped me around and I found myself in a similar position but on my back, my arms still pinned to my sides as he easily captured my tiny wrists with his large, warm hands.

“It’s me,” I repeated. “Al, it’s me…Rachel,” I continued, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing even if my pulse and breathing remained anything but.

A deep, resonant groan escaped from deep within Al’s chest – a seismic tremor that rattled the bed, the furniture, and some of the other things in the room that sounded like glasses in a china cabinet. If he broke my mom’s cake stand, I was going to be really pissed.

Al furrowed his brow and warned, “You have exactly five seconds to tell me who you are… and how, by my mother’s ashes, you breached my inner sanctum.” Al clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, pushing me further into the mattress, his body mirroring the severity of his threat.

But with my face so close to his, I could see subtle changes in his appearance that suggested Al might be growing weary of always having to use aggression to get his way.

Al looked tired.

And not the kind of tired of a demon who had just been woken from a sound sleep. The skin underneath his eyes was marred by deep, dark half-moons, suggesting Al hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in quite a few days. And I could have sworn there were a few more lines on the outer edges of his eyelids as well.

My eyes remained transfixed to Al’s angry, red, goat-slitted pupils. I swallowed hard, which brought his awareness to my lips. “Search my thoughts,” I blurted, without a thought. “It’s me, Al! Look at me! I’ll let you in… just… search my thoughts,” I suggested, in desperation. I did not want Al swimming in my consciousness again, but he would know it was me as soon as I let him in. And he had already been inside my thoughts on a few occasions, what the hell was one more?

Al raised a skeptical eyebrow and chuckled. “And have you capture my soul?” he said, shaking his head. He inhaled with a dramatic pause and said, “Oh, I don’t think so. Your five seconds are up, love,” he declared, and suddenly flooded me with line energy. Frightened, I began spindling as fast as I could. I looked down at my wrists and struggled to break free of Al’s grasp.

The line Al held was a strong one and the amount of energy he was able to hold was incredible. I started to sweat as some of the energy spilled over into my chi. It was coming too fast and he was going to fry my synapses faster than I could say ‘Crap on toast!’ I had to get away from him. I struggled under his weight and tried to wiggle my wrists out of his grasp. I looked down at my hands and saw a powerful, black curse dripping from Al’s fingers. The curse started to burn my wrists and it moved up my arms as Al began chanting in a language I could not identify.

I knew I only had moments before he burned me to a red-headed crisp.

“Search my soul!” I implored. “Al, you know me! Better than anyone else!”

And then, I just got pissed. “Godamnit, Al! I’m right here, in your bedroom, practically throwing myself at you, and you’re trying to kill me instead of trying to get into my pants? Wouldn’t you like to try another kiss?” I shouted.

“What’s the matter, Al?” I continued. “Afraid Newt will have to rescue you again?” I challenged.

Shock registered in Al’s eyes as he met mine once more. He knew it was me. Only he, Newt and I knew about the kiss Al and I had shared. Al had forced himself upon me in an encounter that ended with Newt having to rescue Al from my embrace when I almost pulled an entire line through him and fried his little, demon soul.

He knew it was me, but I let down my defenses anyway. If I let him in, there would be no doubt in his mind that I was who I said I was. I could feel his awareness aggressively enter into mine, probing and prodding the deep recesses of my soul. It was a disturbing yet familiar feeling, since Al had been inside my consciousness on more than one occasion now. I felt his anger, his worry, his disappointment and, finally, his loneliness, as he slowly retreated and left me alone in my body.

“Itch…. itchy witch…?” he stammered.

I nodded, still gasping for breath as I spindled the last bits of energy he had thrown my way.

He let go of my hands and rested one of his forearms alongside my head, as his other hand reached up to push my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief at the feel of his hand on my face.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Al smile in return. His eyes, however, still registered concern. “Why?” he asked. “Why now? Why did you wait so long?” he demanded, his voice sounding of one part hurt, one part betrayal.

I met Al’s pained expression for only an instant then looked away. It hurt me to see the raw emotion on his face. I couldn’t stand that I had possibly hurt him. Instead, I focused my gaze on Al’s sheets, only now appreciating the silky feel of their impossibly high thread-count. They were a deep forest green, subtly decorated with an arabesque pattern of snaking, intertwined vines, popular in 16th century European art. _Nice sheets,_ I thought.

Al cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. “I _said_ …” Al intoned, irritation evident in his voice, “why did you wait so long to let me know you were okay?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I just… needed some time to get my head on straight. And,” I added, “Trent… had to put me in a bottle until my body had recovered enough.”

Al snarled and sat up. The absence of his warm body pressed against mine left me shivering. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and looked over to see Al sitting at the head of the bed, a fair distance away from me. His arms were crossed in front of his body in a defensive posture. His back was rigid and his face registered nothing but anger. “That elf,” he spat, pointing a finger at me, “is going to get you killed!”

I sighed in frustration. “Oh, for the love of God… here we go again with the elf! Trent, Trent, Trent, Trent, Trent…” I mumbled. “What is up with your obsession with the elf?” I taunted, pointing at Al in return.

“ _My_ obsession?” Al chortled.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Yours,” I said, raising my eyebrows in challenge. I shook my head and looked down to see my sweater had ridden up, exposing my midriff. “I guess we’re going to go from almost killing each other to arguing with each other,” I muttered, running my hands over my sweater to smooth it back down over my hips.

“Great,” I huffed, continuing to adjust my top. “Perfect. Is this how a normal demon/demoness relationship is?”

I looked up and saw Al had cocked his head to the side, a curious expression on his face. _Wait. Did I just say“relationship”?_

It was then that I realized Al was completely naked. _Oookaaaaayyyy…_

“M…my aura was shredded beyond any ability to hold my soul…” I stuttered, grasping at an explanation that would satisfy Al as to why I had remained hidden from him for the better part of two weeks.

“You don’t think I know that?” Al roared. He might have been concerned before, but now he was pissed. “You were _dead_ , Rachel! I saw you like that!” he bellowed, uncrossing his arms and stalking over to me on his hands and knees.

Al was scaring me and I tried to scoot back across the bed, away from him, when he grabbed my shoulders and straddled me where I sat. “By the two worlds colliding,” he yelled, shaking me in his grasp. “Do you have _any_ idea how devast – ” his diatribe came to an abrupt stop.

 _He was devastated to have lost me?_

I looked into his eyes and a smile pulled at my face. _He had missed me. Just as I had missed him..._

“You think that’s _funny_?” he shouted in disgust. “The big, bad, nasty demon, reduced to ruin for mourning a witch,” he raged.

“No,” I corrected him. “It’s not funny, Al. I --- ”

“You don’t think I… feel… loss?” he barked. “That I feel pain?”

 _Oh, God. I didn’t want to hurt him…_

“Al, I…”

“That I feel _any_ thing?!” he continued.

Tears welled and spilled down my cheeks. I never meant to hurt him like this. “I’m so sorry, Al,” I said, shaking my head. “I was wrong,” I admitted. “I should have come sooner.”

He sighed and I felt some of the tension leave his body, his grasp on me loosening slightly. “You could have called me – you could have told me you were okay,” he reasoned. “After all we’ve been through” he hesitated, “I…I….” he stammered, at a loss for words. “I missed you, itchy witch,” he smiled, his voice suddenly softer and more tender.   
I met his eyes and smiled, letting my gaze fall to his lips briefly before meeting his stare again. “I _missed_ you too, Al,” I said, relief coursing through my veins.

Al shifted his weight and sat back on his heels. He took my hands in his and leaned his forehead against mine. It felt comforting and good and we sat there like that for I don’t know how long. Still. Content.

After some time, I leaned back slightly and met Al’s eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I, uh… baked you a cake.” I reached up to carefully dab my eyes, certain my mascara or eyeliner would be running halfway down my face.

“Oh?” Al smirked.

I nodded and glanced over at the top of the dresser where the cake still stood safe in its dome. Al’s eyes tracked mine and his face lit with delight when he saw the confection.

“Is that…” he hesitated. “Is that a Black Forest cake?”

I nodded. “It is.”

He turned his head back to look at me and I licked my dry lips, tasting the saltiness of my drying tears. His eyes shifted to my lips and his stare transformed into a serious, lustful desire. “That’s my favorite,” he breathed.

Al knitted his brows in confusion, but playfulness was still evident in the smile of his eyes. “Why did you come here, itchy witch?” he asked, as if only now thinking about my presence in his bedroom. “You could have simply picked up your mirror and called me to let me know you were alive,” he reasoned. “Yet, you came in person. To me.”

“I… I don’t know,..” I stammered, my face turning red.

“Oh, yes you do,” he argued. “You’re a smart girl. You always have a plan, even if it’s a harebrained one,” he concluded, his eyes wide with amusement.

I shrugged. “I.. uh… wanted to let you know I was ok,” I said, looking at his lips instead of meeting his eyes.

His hand touched my face and he lifted my chin so I would have no choice but to meet his eyes. I was so nervous. Who knew what I would find there?

“Is that all?” he asked, running his index finger along my lower lip – a movement that sent faint tendrils of desire from my mouth all the way down to my groin with just that simple touch. I could have sworn I felt Al growing hard against my leg and the aching between my legs started getting stronger and more insistent.

“Y… yes?” I breathed. My hesitation was my undoing.

In a hearbeat, Al misted us off the bed and when we rematerialized, he was behind me, pinning me against the bedpost at the foot of his bed. He had easily captured my arms above my head and was pressing me into the bed frame with his strong, muscular body.

He leaned in to speak and his breath was warm and flirty against the back of my neck. “And that’s all you wanted to do… make sure I knew you were… alive?”

“Uhh..” I said, struggling to maintain my composure.

“That’s why you straightened your hair…put on some makeup…” he commented, and he reached one hand down to untie my ponytail while maintaining his grip on my wrists with his other hand. He leaned into me to smell my shampoo and pushed my hair aside, placing a delicate kiss on my neck that made my knees buckle with desire.

Al shifted his posture to support my weight and moved his free hand down my shoulder… my rib cage… my waist.. my hip… Everywhere he touched left faint tingles of energy and desire. If he kept this up much longer, I would be begging to warm his bed.

“That’s why you wore this incredible pair of tight jeans…?” he remarked, and a sigh escaped me as his hand wandered hungrily down my side, cupping my butt. He shifted his stance and I felt his arousal pressed into my backside. Oh, yeah. Al was hard as a rock.

I moaned at the feel of his hand on me, at the feel of him rubbing against me. “I always dress like this,” I lied, my voice filled with deep desire.

“Oh, no you don’t, itchy witch,” he corrected, and he spun me around, my arms still captive above my head. Somewhere in the midst of everything, Al had dimmed the lights. But even in the dim light of the bedroom, I was sure Al could sense my arousal, my nipples hardening in response to his mere closeness.

I wanted this – wanted Al – but I thought that things might have been going too fast. So I tried to distract myself from the intensity of Al’s stare. I looked up at the canopy of his bed. The four, ornately carved wooden columns rose up to a large, wooden canopy. The canopy was intricately carved as well, containing sculptures of gargoyles interspersed with swirling, complex ley line symbols. Al’s bed pulsed with an energy that suggested the carvings in the wood held protective wards, making Al’s bedroom a sanctum that no one – not even Newt herself – could breach.

“You have a big bed, Al,” I commented, looking at the vastness of the bedding landscape that lay before us.

Al looked at his bed and then at me. “It is large and lonely. Much like some other things, Rachel,” he smirked. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Why did I come?” I repeated his question and looked down to see a very large, very ready Little Big Al pressed against my lower abdomen. I blushed three shades of red, but God help me – he felt so good pressed against me. My breath caught and I brought my eyes up to meet his once more.

Al’s smile was gone and in its place was hunger. “Yes,” he said simply. “Tell me what you want, Rachel,” he whispered, his eyes heavily lidded with barely contained desire.


	10. Newt

Newt looked at me, her sparse eyebrows raised in inquisition. “Where have you been keeping yourself, Rachel? You’ve been missed.”

“Oh. Well. You know. Around,” I answered.

“Yes,” she replied, the soft chuckle under her breath barely perceptible. “I can see how you get around.”

_Did she just call me a whore?_

“What? Uh. No,” I said, a nervous laugh escaping me. “I know how this must look. But Al and I were just…”

Her eyes shifted between me, inexplicably naked and sudsy, and Al, inexplicably present in the bathroom with me. “Fucking?” she surmised. 

“What?” Al gasped. “Of course not!” he laughed. “Newt, love, are you sure you’re feeling well today?” he asked, as he popped up off his stool and stepped towards her, lifting her hand to his lips in a more formal greeting.

Newt turned to him, a snarl marring her lips. “I’m feeling quite well, Al… love,” she said, mocking his use of the word. 

She yanked her hand back from Al’s grasp and smoothed her robe, tugging on the sleeves to right them on her frame.

“I felt you playing in the lines, Gally. You and she. And you must have been in your bedroom because I tried to stop by earlier and was not able to find you. Only there would you be safe. Only there would I not be able to follow. And if you were there…,” she said, staring down at me – eyebrows raised in a disapproving expression, like an uptight, spinster schoolmarm who’s just caught a couple of fourteen year olds making out beneath the bleachers of the junior high and wants to see them both publically flogged. 

And there I sat.

Me. 

Naked. 

In Al’s tub.

“Well,” she continued, her expression conveying that she knew exactly what she was looking at. 

Me. 

Naked. 

In Al’s tub. 

Newt shrugged her shoulders and spread one hand out, palm up, gesturing to the scene she came upon as evidence of her conclusion. “There’s very little else you two could have been up to.”

Oh, shit!

My eyes traveled to Al’s and I tried not to let my face show the panic I felt. 

We were so screwed. And not in the way we both would have enjoyed.

Al did not seem to like where this conversation was headed, and jumped in, attempting to steer it in a different direction. 

“Rachel and I have just finished some combat training,” Al stated. “And she refused --”

“Combat training?” she said, cutting him off. A subtle squint to her eyes showed she wasn’t quite buying it. “Training in a bathtub. That’s an interesting choice of venue, Gally,” she teased.

Al huffed, his frustration showing. “No. We didn’t train in the bathroom. Rachel refused the use of a healing curse and I offered her a bath. The warm water and bath salts are almost as good as a curse to sooth tired muscles.”

Newt nodded in agreement. “Yes, a bath can be quite therapeutic. But I’m sure Rachel is capable of bathing herself. What are you doing in here with her? Chaperoning?” she prodded.

“I came in to check on her. And. Well. We were just… debriefing.” Al finished.

Newt’s gaze slid down the length of Al’s body, coming to rest at the front of his pants. “Debriefing?” she asked. “Yes, that seems about right.”

“Newt,” Al sighed, “you’re making more of this than there is. Rachel surprised me, you see, by jumping to my bedroom with her gargoyle while I was fast asleep. Caught me completely by surprise. And I decided to make an example of it, showing Rachel some combative, offensive curses. She can’t continue to be so vulnerable, now that the rest of the collective knows she’s a demoness. Certainly you can understand me wanting to make sure Rachel was able to protect herself from aggressive males,” he finished.

“Mmm,” Newt murmured. “Males, yes. They can indeed be so aggressive. Barbaric behavior, really. But we women have a few of our own tricks up our sleeves, no, Rachel?” she said, touching the side of her mouth with one long, boney finger.

“Tricks?” I said.

Newt raised her eyebrows at me as if what she said was obvious. And, of course it was. I had almost drawn an entire line through Al not long ago and nearly turned him into a drooling demonic vegetable. Tricks, indeed.

“Yes,” I admitted. “We do have some tricks.”

Newt continued to inspect her surroundings, her eyes falling to the floor beneath the tub. “That,” she said, “looks remarkably like one of your robes, Gally.”

Al shrugged. “I lent it to Rachel.” 

“I see,” she said. 

Newt vanished in a red puff of ever-after and when she materialized moments later, she had Al pinned to the wall.

“Did you lend her use of these as well?” she asked, her right hand firmly clutching Al’s balls, and from the look on his face, she had given them a hearty squeeze.

“Ugnnhh,” Al groaned.

“Newt! Stop it!” I yelled. 

My feet scrambled for purchase on the tub’s slippery porcelain bottom and, with my hands gripping the sides of the tub, I quickly rose to a stand. Water streamed down my naked body in torrents, crashing back into the bathwater pooled at my knees. 

Newt turned her head to look at me and only then did I remember I was stark naked. I blushed, splaying my arms and hands to strategically cover the important bits.

“By all means, Rachel. Join us,” she said, and with a subtle shift of ever-after, I found myself standing next to the bathtub and dressed in a robe almost identical to Newt’s, but in red.

Pretty, I thought.

Newt smiled. “I think red is appropriate. Don’t you, Rachel?”

Wait, I thought. A scarlet robe for the scarlet woman? _Niiiiice…_

No longer naked, I straightened my posture, bringing my arms down to my sides.

“Newt, please!” I pleaded. “Just… let him go. It’s not Al’s fault.”

“What,” she said. “What’s not his Al’s fault, hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Newt cocked her head to the side, a slight curve to her mouth perhaps hiding a smirk of enjoyment at watching us writhe under her scrutiny.

With one final, and evidently painful, twist, Newt relinquished her grip on Al’s testicles and he groaned again, then sagged slightly against the wall. 

Newt wiped her hand down the front of her robe. “You’re a clever girl, Rachel,” she stated. “But you can be so stupid.”

I was about to jump to my own defense when she continued. 

“Then again, I suppose you could do worse than Gally for a mate.”

“Mate?” I cried. “Newt, you misunderstand. Al and I… we’re just… well… we were just…”

“Fucking,” she said. “Yes, I know. Wasn’t that the first thing I said when I arrived? I really don’t like repeating myself.”

“But,” she continued, sighing heavily before her lips upturned in a mischievous grin. “I suppose we girls must be allowed to have our fun. Do you like insurance, Rachel?”

I stared at Al, looking for some direction. This conversation with Newt was flying in more directions than a pixie on angel dust. 

Al gave me a blank stare of desperation. Clearly he didn’t know where Newt was going with this thought either.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Insurance is good.”

“Yes,” she said. “Me too. And I’ve always enjoyed the earthy scent of a forest,” she mused. “The musky smell of leaves decomposing… the sound of fallen twigs snapping underfoot.” 

Newt looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes in temporary reverie.

After a few seconds, the moment was gone and Newt opened her eyes, looking at Al and me in turn. She nodded once, a look of determination on her alien face. She had apparently come to a decision about something. 

That could be good. Or…not. 

“Yes, perhaps a bit of wild magic then,” she said, her black eyes somehow dancing with a sinister delight and a closed-lip smile of utter contentment pasted on her face.

Newt waved her hand in our direction, motioning between Al and myself, and the strong, cloying scent of a leaves, grass, and pinecones filled the air. A wild breeze lifted my damp, drying hair off my neck, blowing a few strands in my face that I brushed back with one hand, and the hem of my robe floated like a magic carpet on the ethereal wind. This was untamed magic. Elven magic. And I had no idea what Newt was playing at. 

The breeze left as quickly as it had been summoned, the scent of the forest vanishing as well. 

Newt clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, yes. This is quite perfect!” she exclaimed. “Proper insurance, indeed.”

Al roared with anger and plaster dust sifted down from the ceiling like flour through a sieve. 

“You fucking bitch!” Al cursed, and his hands glowed black with power as he threw a curse against the far wall, blasting a large hole in the masonry.

“Gally,” Newt soothed, “I told you I would kill you if you ever slept with her. Count yourself lucky.”

“You can’t do this to us!” Al raged.

“Oh, but I can, Gally,” she said, her voice never rising above a smooth monotone. “And, oh, but I did,” she smirked.

“Now,” she continued, tugging at the arms of her robe again. “Only one thing left to do.”

Newt fixed me with her stare. 

“For you, Rachel,” she said, and with another tug of her sleeve, a small, dark vial appeared in her hand. 

Lifting it up to the candlelit chandelier, she said, “Something special. We girls have to take care of each other.”

“Come here, Rachel,” she commanded, and I felt myself dissolve into a line, reappearing half a second later in front of her. On my knees.

Newt grabbed my chin with one hand, her cold, boney fingers digging into my skin. She shifted her grip until I had no other choice but to open my mouth. 

“Down the hatch!” she exclaimed, pouring the contents of the vial down my throat.

I coughed, gagging on the bitter taste of the liquid. It tasted like dandelion greens mixed with cod liver oil and made me want to throw up.

“Blehhhuckkk,” I spat, as Newt released me from her grasp. I was on my hands and knees on the floor, slight cramping in my abdomen and a more aggressive dizziness in my head causing the world to list a bit to the side for a moment. 

I looked up to find Al looking at me with a mix of emotion. Sympathy. Disgust. Defeat. 

“Are you quite finished?” Al asked Newt, his jaw clenched in anger.

Newt smiled. “Yes,” she said, “quite. I must be going now, unfortunately. This has been so much fun!” she beamed. “We shall all have to get together at Dalliance later this week.” 

And with that, she left.

“W… www…what..” I stammered. “What just happened?” I asked, my stomach still roiling in protest from whatever nauseating brew Newt had just force-fed me. 

I retched slightly with a few dry heaves before I felt Al reach down to touch my shoulder. Gently, he lifted me off the floor, supporting me in his large, strong arms.

Al sighed and brought a hand up to brush the hair back from my face.

“What did she do to us?” I asked, my eyes watering slightly and pleading with his for an explanation.

Al’s jaw twitched again. He was pissed. Not at me, but at Newt. 

What could have made him so angry? I thought. 

And then… my thought was answered.

“A chastity curse,” Al snarled in disgust.


	11. Post-mortem

My stomach continued to revolt from whatever foul mixture Newt had forced me to drink so it took me a while before the weight of Al’s words hit me. But when they did, they hit me like a bus.

Brow creased, I raised my eyebrows. “A… chastity curse?”

A few bubbles of laughter escaped me like fizz in a glass of champagne before I broke down and nearly collapsed from laughing so hard, a virtual torrent of tears flowing down my face.

“Oh…” I said, holding my middle as I straightened and tried to get hold of myself, bracing my weight on Al for support. “Whew…! You’re an _ass_ , you know that?” I said, punching Al lightly in the bicep.

Al was watching my hysterics with a growing frown. “Rachel, this isn’t a joke.”

His grip on my shoulder was painful as he shook me, making it clear he was serious.

I squinted up at him before my eyes widened, stone cold sober as I took in his reaction.

“Oh my god you’re serious,” I said.

“Deadly.”

“Newt cast a chastity curse on us? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”

Al grunted his reply and his frown deepened.

“What about the potion she gave me? Why didn’t she make you drink one?” I asked, my chin nudging in his direction.

Al’s jaw twitched and his red, goat-slit eyes met mine. “That,” he said, “was something else. What did it taste like?”

“It was awful. Like bitter greens steeped in fish oil.”

“Mmm,” he said, releasing my arm.

Al stepped away from me and walked to the claw-foot tub, reaching down to pick his sopping wet robe up off the floor.

“Al?” I said, cocking my hip to the side.

Al rung his robe out over the bathtub and turned to look at me, his eyes wandering up to my head. “Your hair’s a mess, love,” he said.

I huffed. I could tell my hair was mostly dry and I’m sure Al was right and it was a tangled, frizzy mess, but it pissed me off that he wasn’t answering my question.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “Al…” I persisted. “ _What_ ,” I said, “was in that potion?”

Al crossed his arms and perched his butt on the edge of the tub. “I haven’t made one in a long, long while, itchy witch. But that,” he said, playing with a loose thread on the hem of the garment, “was a demon contraception curse.”

“Contraception,” I said. I smacked my hand to my forehead. “Shit.”

How could I have been so stupid? I’d forgotten to pack an earth magic contraception amulet amongst everything else I brought with me. But, then again, I hadn’t counted on sleeping with Al. Had I?

Seeing my reaction, Al said, “I take it you hadn’t brought one of your own.”

I shook my head.

“Yes, well,” he sighed, “it probably wasn’t a horrible idea, then, that Newt dosed you with one of hers.”

I nodded before crossing my arms, fidgeting a bit with the sleeves of my scarlet robe.

“Al?” 

“Hmm?” he said, tossing the robe back onto the floor and meeting my gaze.

I grimaced, feeling for the first time a twinge of despair I couldn’t keep from showing on my face.

“What if I wanted to have a baby,” I said quickly, before I lost the courage to put thought into words. “Um. Someday.”

Al balanced his left elbow on his right arm, which he had crossed in front of his body, bring two fingers to rest at the side of his face like a professor deep in thought about how to answer a question from a precocious student.

He looked at the floor briefly before meeting my eyes. When he spoke his voice was soft as newly spun cotton. “Do you want to have a baby, Rachel?”

I shrugged and my eyes sunk to the floor. I didn’t want to see Al’s reaction to my answer. “I don’t know. I mean… maybe.”

I bit my lip and a small frown creased my brow. “No, I guess… I guess not,” I said, partially defeated. “How would I even raise a demon baby, right?” I asked, finally braving a glance at him.

The beginning of a smile curved one side of Al’s mouth. “Demon women have done it before,” he said.

Looking at him, I wondered what kind of father Al would be. How fucked up was I that I was silently assessing Al’s fatherly qualities? 

A ruthless alpha male demon with a hair-trigger temper didn’t seem like it should be my first choice when thinking about the father of my unborn child. But Al was also smart, disciplined, a skilled teacher (even if not the most patient), and was fiercely protective of things that were important to him.

We left unspoken the one factor that would effectively prohibit any further procreation of demon kind – the factor that evidently just cursed us into chastity.

More than a few moments passed in silence before I inhaled sharply, determined to change the topic. Sort of.

“Do you really want to talk about this?” I asked.

Al licked his lips and set his jaw. “No,” he said, tilting his head down and peering at me from under his brow.

“So about this chastity curse,” I said.

“What of it?” he said.

“How does it work?”


	12. The Frustrations of Chastity

“A chastity curse is a particularly vicious spell,” Al said, his voice slow and precise.

“I don’t know,” I countered, “I mean, it didn’t feel particularly painful.”

Al turned and fiddled with something or other on the tub and the chocked, bubbly sound of water draining filled the silence between us. He reached down and grabbed his robe off the floor again, the garment vanishing in a red puff of energy as he presumably returned it to some place in his private chambers I hadn’t yet seen. From what I was able to tell, demons didn’t do laundry. Or perhaps that particular task was left to their familiars.  
Al resettled himself on his perch at the edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping him before he continued our conversation. “There are a great many ways to be vicious, itchy witch, without inflicting physical pain.”

I nodded. I couldn’t really disagree with him there.

“The curse works by prohibiting the affected persons from removing their clothes while in each other’s presence,” he said softly.

I crossed my arms in front of my body but uncrossed them again to keep from wrinkling my robe. My hair, by this point, was everywhere and I shoved a hand through it when several errant strands of curly frizz fell forward into my eyes.

“Damnit back to the Turn,” I fumed. “How could she _do_ this to us?”

I may have been prone to fall for the dangerous bad boys and Al could certainly be one helluva bad boy demon, but I was pissed beyond belief at the thought of anyone taking away my choice.

“ _Why_ did she do this to us?” I shouted, my eyes pleading with Al’s. “What about free will, damnit?” I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls of Al’s bathroom in a cacophony of female rage.

Al looked at me and his eyes bespoke the endless years of torment he and the other few demons left had to endure at the hands of the last, crazy-assed female demon in existence.  
“Rachel, Newt doesn’t much care for the concept of free will as long as she gets her way,” he said.

“And her way involves us not being together? This is absolutely ridiculous,” I cried, “And this… godamn… hair!” I huffed, using both my hands as a headband to keep it out of my face. 

I started pacing the room, my bare feet slapping against the wet stone floor.

“Try to calm yourself, love,” Al said. “You’re flitting around like an angry hornet.”

“Ughhh!” I groaned. “Something must be done about that woman.”

“Believe me. We’ve already tried to do something about her, Rachel,” he said. “We’ve spent eons trying to deal with her in any rational manner. And even some irrational ones,” he said, eyebrows raised. 

I blew out a breath, directing it upward when I saw another curl making a stealthy trek into my light of sight.

“Here,” Al said, rising from his seat and walking toward me. “Stop fussing and let me help you with that,” he said.

I was about to protest that I didn’t need his help, but something inside me thought better of it. I wanted his help. And accepting it didn’t feel like a weakness. We were in this together and would get through this together.  
Al was standing in front of me and my eyes traveled upwards to meet his. He reached a hand up and touched my hair, twining it around his finger before letting it fall in a springy red coil.

“It’s beautiful, you know,” Al said, his eyes shifting to the crazy mass of redness atop my head. “But it’s always such a mess,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Not always,” I said in my hair’s defense. I laughed and looked at him, my eyes playful and challenging. “And to think I spent all that time straightening it for y –” I stopped, realizing at the last moment what I was confessing.

Al didn’t miss a thing, though, and it didn’t slip past him that I had gone out of my way to look good for him.

“So you _did_ straighten it for me,” he hummed. 

An air of conquest in his voice, Al brought a hand to the side of my face and caressed my cheek. My eyes closed briefly as I leaned into his touch, his hands warm and gentle and my body aching with need.

“Turn around, Rachel,” Al said. And I did.

His fingers carefully combed my hair, somehow not snagging in any tangles as he tamed my angry mane back from my face. With eyes still closed, I savored Al’s every touch. I couldn’t tell what exactly he was doing back there. His hands were sure but never rough as he coaxed my head from side to side, fumbling with a few pieces. It felt like he was weaving them into place, his hands engaged in a delicate dance.

After a few minutes, Al’s fingers stopped and he put his hands on my shoulders, turning me slightly to face a different direction.

“Open your eyes, itchy witch,” Al said.

When I did, I found myself staring into a large, oval mirror set in a gilded frame and affixed to the wall above a mahogany chest of drawers. We were magically back in Al’s bedroom, his large, four-poster bed visible behind our reflections.

Al had fixed my hair into an elegant French twist, the style showing off my neck perfectly. The bright red of my robe complemented my coloring well and Al stood behind me to my right, his hands lovingly draped on my shoulders. He had changed back into the black robe, the garment now dry as a bone leaving no evidence of our tub time escapades. We looked like the perfect demon couple, he and I. What surprised me most was how comfortable I felt with that thought.

I looked at him in the mirror and said, “It’s perfect.”

I brought my hand to rest atop his then turned to face him.

“Al…?” I said, my eyes heavy and my body once again craving his touch.

“Rachel,” Al said, “I don’t want to start something we can’t finish.”

“Just kiss me, damnit,” I demanded. And he did.

His breath was hot as his mouth descended onto mine and I moaned at the feel of his lips pleading with mine for more of a taste, a request I granted without further demand. My hands traveled a southern route from his shoulders to his waist, my impatient hands fumbling with the belt of his robe before I realized my fingers were diving through the fabric as if it were devoid of physical, tangible substance. Al’s clothes were there and real yet somehow weren’t.

 _What the hell_, I thought.

“Mmm,” I muttered against Al’s lips and he moaned a reply, clearly enjoying our makeout session as much as I was.

Summoning all the rational resistance I had in me, I pulled back from Al’s mouth and leaned my head against his chest. 

“What’s the matter, Rachel?” Al asked.

I shook my head, willing my tears to retreat before I was overcome with grief and frustration.

Composing myself, I brought my head up to meet Al’s gaze, a deep frown wrinkling my brow. “Newt’s curse,” I said. “You were right, Al.”

I shook my head again, feeling the tears making inroads and attempting to overflow the dams of my eyelids. “You were right,” I said again. “It’s vicious and cruel.”

Al grimaced and touched my lips with his fingers.

“I just… I just tried to untie your robe and it was as if it wasn’t there. As if you weren’t there, Al.” I said.

“Mmm,” Al muttered. “That’s the general nature of it, yes.”

“There has to be a way to dispel it, Al” I said.

“Newt used an elven magic curse, Rachel. It’s not so easy to dispel. There are not that many demons well versed in wild magic,” he said.

“What about your library?” I pleaded, no longer masking the desperation I felt. “You must have _something_ in there that could help us undo what that crazy bitch has done.”

“I may,” Al acknowledged. “I so rarely fuck with their filthy magic. It’s unpredictable and sloppy.”

Al huffed and ran a hand through his hair, my frustration clearly contagious.

“And even if I did, you or I can’t dispel it. Those who are affected by a chastity curse cannot undo it themselves,” he said. “They must enlist the assistance of another.”

“I’m sure _some_ other demon in the ever-after could help us,” I said.

“You think?” Al said, his posture flippant and his voice sarcastic. “And how many demons do you think would be willing to step up and place their lives on the line so that the only sane living demoness in existence can continue her intimate relations with a rival demon? Mmm?”

_Shit, he’s right, I thought._

“But we _have_ to undo this, Al!” I said. “Isn’t that what you want?” I asked, thrusting my splayed hands towards him.

“Of course it’s what I want, Rachel,” Al replied, the volume of his voice rising slightly to meet my own. “But the only conceivable way of undoing the curse is to have an _elf_ do it for us,” he said, his disgust of the entire elven race apparent in the distain with which he spat the word ‘elf’.

Al must have read the hopelessness on my face because he continued, “And we’d never get an elf familiar to help us, even if we could get him or her away from their demon long enough to ask.”

“So then where does that leave us?” I asked.

“That leaves us,” Al sneered, “hip deep in elf shit with no shovel to dig ourselves out.”

And then a thought occurred to me.

“No,” I said softly. “That’s not the only way.”

Al looked at me expectantly with eyebrows raised. “You have another plan, itchy witch? Do tell.”

I couldn’t believe I was saying it out loud, but there was another way.

“We could… ask an elf.”


	13. A Visit with an Elf

After two plus hours of bickering and planning, we finally agreed upon jumping to a spot just outside Trent’s compound instead of inside, as Al would have preferred. And so it was that shortly after the sun had set, Al and I found ourselves outside the gate to the Kalamack Estate, just down the road from the main entrance and out of the line of sight of the main guard station.

“I still say we should have popped right into Trenton Aloysius Kalamack’s office. The man has a lovely ley line running right through it!” Al said.

“We’re here asking for his help, Al,” I said. “The better approach is not to piss him off from the outset.”

“Still,” Al harrumphed, “I love drama and intrigue as much as the next demon, but I’d much prefer to spent as little time in the company of this putrid little elf than is absolutely necessary.”

I frowned at him and cocked my hip to the side. “Trent’s really not so bad, Al.” Not to mention the fact that he was easy on the eyes and had an entrancing voice as soft as silk – and he was just as slippery.

“And it is thinking like that, itchy witch, that is going to land you in a giant heap of stinking elf shit once more if you’re not careful.”

“Relax, Al,” I said, patting his arm. “This is going to work. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, itchy witch,” Al replied and my eyes widened at his admission. “It’s Trenton Aloysius Kalamack that I don’t trust.”

I smirked and said, “That’s why I’m going to do all the talking.” 

I stepped towards him and gave him a peck on the cheek, then felt my face flush at having so brazenly approached him like that. When had I gotten comfortable enough around him to treat him like any other guy I’d been in a relationship with? 

Al’s eyes were large and his eyes focused on my mouth. Licking his lips, he spoke and his voice was subtly hoarse. “Ready when you are, Rachel.”

I smiled at him and nodded and we walked side by side down the road, stopping at the gatehouse to check in.

The security guard sitting in the small booth looked bored and appeared to be distracted reading a magazine when Al and I approached. He must have seen us in his peripheral vision because our steps were silent and the guard’s head shot up at attention, his eyes wide when he looked from me to Al. The guard’s fear tasted like electricity and for a brief moment my body shivered with a reaction similar to arousal. I felt Al hum with approval, clearly enjoying the effect the human’s palpable unease had on me. I was trying to come to terms with my status as a demoness but it still embarrassed me how a healthy shot of adrenaline could pool in parts of my body and turn me on so easily. I couldn’t really blame the guard for his reaction, though. I doubted Trent had many demon visitors.

I waved and gave the guard a friendly smile, attempting to put him more at ease as Al and I sidled up to the booth.

“Hello,” I said, my mouth aligned with the perforations in the bulletproof glass of the guard station. “Rachel Morgan and Algaliarept to see Mr. Kalamack.”

Sweat broke out on the guard’s upper lip and trickled down the side of his face from beneath his hat. “One… one… moment, ma’am,” he mumbled, still staring at Al with intense trepidation before turning slightly and pushing a button on his console. 

The guard spoke in a whisper to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“No, sir,” the guard said, pausing to listen to his superior through the headpiece. “No, sir, they haven’t set off any of the alarms or spell detectors,” he said. “Even the lethal ones, yes sir.”

The questions and answers went back and forth for a minute or two before I started to lose my patience and leaned forward again, taking matters into my own hands.

“Is that Quen?” I shouted through the glass. “Quen, it’s me. Rachel! Al and I need to see Trent. It won’t take long, but it’s an emergency!”

The guard continued mouthing into his mic, stealing glances at me though he seemed transfixed by the demon at my side.

“Mr. Quen says the demon must wait here,” the guard said.

“Which demon?” Al piped up, threading his arm through mine and pulling me towards him. “There are two of us,” Al beamed.

Al and I must have looked like the perfect demonic power couple. The guard’s face paled and his sweating increased in volume and intensity.  
I gave Al a look then turned back to the guard and smiled.

“Quen,” I said, speaking loudly into the booth. “Al and I both need to see Trent. I wouldn’t insist upon it unless it was absolutely necessary. I promise Al will be on his best behavior.”

A few moments later the guard ended the call and turned back to me. “Wait here,” he said, wiping the perspiration from his face.

Al huffed. “Not very hospitable,” he said. “Treating us like second class citizens when we could burn you all to a crisp with barely a thought.”

“Al!” I said.

“Well, it’s true,” he replied, his posture stiff and his nose raised as if he smelled something foul.

I looked at Al but his eyes were busy taking in the enormity of the estate. Being at the Kalamack compound always made me feel a bit sub-par, financially speaking, but I wouldn’t have traded my church for any amount of opulence.

“Impressive, huh?” I said.

Al sniffed. “Not really. If I lived in reality we would no doubt have something similar.”

Al turned his head and looked at me. “At least I’m a self-made man,” he said. “Not riding on my daddy’s coattails.”

“No,” I sighed, “your coattails are all your own, Al,” I said, my eyes landing on his velvety green frock.

I was about to say something else in defense of Trent, not really knowing why I should be feeling so compelled, when a shadowy figure approached our direction from behind the tall, wrought-iron fence.

I brought my hand to my brow, shielding my eyes from the glare of the guard station’s bright lights and immediately recognized who it was.

“Quen!” I exclaimed.

Quen nodded. “Hello, Ms. Morgan,” he replied. His arms rested casually at his sides but I could tell from the energy in the air Quen was on high alert.

“To what do we owe this…” Quen paused, his gaze briefly traveling to the demon at my side before returning to me, “… pleasure.”

“We need to see Trent,” I said. “I would have called beforehand, but it happened quite suddenly and it’s sort of an unplanned emergency visit. Will Trent see us?”

“What, exactly, has happened?” Quen asked.

I bit my lip and held my breath. “Al and I have been bespelled,” I said, my nervousness showing as my eyes shifting to the ground and back to Quen as I spoke. “With an elven spell,” I explained. “And only an elf can… remove it.”

_Whew! Finished that explanation while being as vague as humanly… er… demonly possible. Give this girl a medal!_

I looked over at Al and saw him looking between me and Quen, not at all leering but simply enjoying the verbal exchange with eyebrows raised and a slightly amused curve to one corner of his mouth.

Quen clasped his hands behind his back. “Well,” he said, “we certainly cannot allow Mr….?” Quen looked at Al expectantly.

“Madam and Mr. Algaliarept,” Al announced, as if we had just arrived at a black tie inaugural ball.

My brow creased and I scowled. That would certainly _not_ help our cause.

“Cut it out,” I said, elbowing Al. “You’re not helping.”

“We unfortunately cannot permit your demon access to Mr. Kalamack’s residence. Certainly not after their… history,” Quen said, ever the diplomat.

He was referring, of course, to Al’s removal of several of Trent’s appendages while I was lying literally on death’s doorstep in the hospital after my run in with Ku’Sox.

“You have my word, Quen,” I said.

“And mine too,” Al chimed in and Quen frowned.

“That Al will not in any way harm you, Trent, Ceri, or anyone else while we’re here.”

“Ceri’s here?” Al remarked. “How delightful!”

“Al!” I shouted. 

Quen, bless him, refused to rise to Al’s bait. “Your word?” he said. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I cannot grant you permissions simply based on your word that your demon will behave himself.”

“Please, Quen,” I begged. “My word has always been good enough for Trent!”

“Yes, it has been,” a voice in the dark replied. A voice I knew well.

A blond head emerged from the shadows, followed by a tall, lean muscular body and piercing green eyes that met mine as the figure walked into the light. 

“Hello, Rachel,” Trent said.


	14. Midnight in the Garden of... Mr. Kalamack

My breath caught seeing Trent standing before me under the glare of the security floodlights overpowering the soft glow of the moonlight in the sky above, a fact that was not lost on Al and was probably not lost on Trent.

Al audibly grumbled his disapproval at my obvious schoolgirl-like crush on the elf and Trent’s smile became cocky and self-assured.

“Uh. Hi, Trent,” I said. “You’re looking…good.”

“As are you,” he replied. Smooth. Suave. Sexy.

Trent’s hands were resting in the pockets of his flannel trousers and he wore a crisp white dress shirt with the top button or two undone and the sleeves rolled up. The man looked like a cover model for GQ. It was all I could do not to stare. Or, not to stare so blatantly.

“How’s Lucy?” I asked.

Trent’s smile transformed from cool and cocky to genuinely warm. 

“She’s terrific,” he gushed. “She’s really settling in nicely.”

Something deep inside me stirred and softened watching him light up as he talked about his daughter.

“That’s great,” I said, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s… really great, Trent.”

“Thanks,” he said, his face losing all traces of lightness and laughter as his eyes looked at the demon standing by my side. “So you need my help, huh?”

“Yeah, uh,” I said, blinking a few times to clear my head. “Al and I do, actually.”

I looked over at Al and expected him to look pissed but he wore the same smirk he had when I was speaking with Quen earlier. Clearly, he was enjoying watching me squirm. Which, on many levels, was better than the alternative… wasn’t it?

“Yes,” Trent replied. “I can see you brought your pet demon with you.”

The first traces of nervousness appeared as one of Trent’s hands reached up to smooth his baby-fine blond hair.

I frowned, not liking Trent speaking of Al so derogatorily.

“He’s not my pet, Trent,” I said.

“Only on nights when we’re not role playing, that is,” Al chimed in.

I inwardly winced. What was with Al? I knew he wanted this curse removed as much as I did. But apparently he just couldn’t help himself.

“Al!” I moaned, turning my head to look at him.

“What?” Al shrugged. “It’s true.”

“In your dreams, perhaps,” I said.

“Mmm,” Al hummed. Though Trent and I were no longer smiling, you couldn’t wipe the smile off Al’s face with industrial cleaner. In fact, Al seemed to be the only one enjoying himself.

“What is it exactly that you need, Rachel?” Trent asked. “Quen said you mentioned something about a spell.”

“Um, yes,” I said. “A demon cursed us with an elven spell and only you can dispel it for us.”

“Why me? Why not just ask a different demon to dispel it for you?” Trent asked.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We just can’t, okay?”

“Rachel.”

I looked at Trent, heat rushing to my face.

“I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other,” he said, his voice soft as brushed velvet.

I nodded. “Yeah, we did.”

“So,” he prodded, gesturing to me with one hand. “Explain.”

I inhaled and held my breath, a groan escaping my lips as I looked at Al before continuing.

“We’d never be able to find a demon who’d be willing to dispel it for us,” I said.

“Because...?” Trent said, prompting me to continue.

I hesitated, not knowing exactly how to word it without sending Trent right off the proverbial cliff. But why should I be ashamed of what happened between Al and me? 

“Well,” Trent continued, “what kind of spell was it?”

“Umm,” I stammered. “It was… uh… that is… it is, I guess… present tense… ‘cause it’s still on us, right…?”

“Rachel!” Trent interrupted me, his voice just this side of a shout. A deep crease furrowed Trent’s brow.

I looked at the grounded and blurted it out. “It’s a chastity curse, okay?”

I sighed, smacking my forehead with the open palm of one hand. God, could this get any more embarrassing?

When I looked up, I saw Quen staring at me with his usual relative neutrality, Trent measuring me with his pale eyebrows raised and a calculating look on his face, and Al looking at me with a proud smugness like I was his prized trophy wife.

“A chastity spell?” Trent asked. “Rachel, why would another demon curse you with a chas…” he said, a faint gasp escaping him as he finally put two and two together, solving the algebraic equation which placed me plump smack in Al’s bed.

“You slept with him,” Trent whispered. His tan face lost all coloring and he looked like he was going to be sick.

“Are you going to help us or not?” I said, getting pissed that Trent of all people would pass judgment on my lifestyle. 

Trent shook his head, his fine blond strands lifting into the air on the slight breeze that stirred the air. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “You fucked him. Him!” Trent yelled, pointing to Al. 

“Sa’han,” Quen said quietly but Trent was not to be deterred.

“Your demon!” he shouted.

“Oh, please,” I said. “Like you’re in any position to judge me! You had a baby with a woman you’re not even married to,” I spat. “And…” I continued, before he had the opportunity to cut me off, “you weren’t even in _love_ with Ellasbeth, so don’t start crying to me that I’m to blame for breaking up your marriage.”

“Oh! And then…!” I shouted, getting more and more irate as my tirade continued, “…you stole said child away from her mother!”

“Rachel, you know I…”

“Not to mention the fact that you’ve murdered countless numbers of people to keep your illegal drug empire under wraps,” I said, lowering my voice to an angry whisper as I looked around to make sure no one but us could hear my accusation.

Al’s voice cut through my red haze. “Rachel…” he said, his voice a low warning that I should shut my mouth before I ruined our chances of getting from the elf what we wanted.

“Look,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Trent. You’re really blowing this out of proportion.”

“Am I?” he responded. “I give you a second chance. I give you choice. And this is what you choose?” he spat, gesturing to Al once more. “I thought you were getting smarter about your decisions.”

“I am!” I shot back. “And he’s not a ‘this’! He’s…” I stopped, turning my head and meeting Al’s gaze. What, exactly, was Al to me? 

“He’s not a ‘this’,” I said again, my voice echoing the soft affection I felt when I looked at Al. “He’s a man,” I said, not taking my eyes off Al, whose expression had suddenly grown serious. “And he’s…” my voice left me even if my conviction did not.

“And he’s important to you,” Trent said, finishing the thought for me and bringing my attention back to him.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, shuddering slightly at the coldness of the late-summer evening breeze. Al stepped closer and a warmth enveloped me when he draped his coat around my shoulders, his hands lingering on my body longer than was necessary. I felt myself unconsciously lean into his touch.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “He is.”

A silence hung in the air before Trent shuffled his feet and the sound of gravel shifting underfoot drew my eyes form the ground to Trent. Perhaps it was the unsolicited affection shown to me by my demon in front of Trent, Quen and the heavens above. Whatever it was, something had swayed Trent’s decision as he looked from me to Al and apparently came to some sort of conclusion.

“Fine,” Trent sighed. “I’ll help you. Both of you.”

I exhaled sharply, not even aware I had been holding my breath. “Thank you.”

“Now,” Trent said, “I’m going to have to do a little research before I try the spell. I would appreciate it if you and…” he paused briefly and just when I worried he would say something spiteful, he surprised me by saying, “Al… would let us escort you to my library.”

I knew it took a lot for Trent to extend that degree of trust to Al. To trust me when I promised Al would not harm him or anyone else during our visit.

As if hearing my thoughts, Trent remarked, “I meant it when I said I trusted you since camp, Rachel. And besides. I know damn well you and he could have gotten past any protections we have in place around the grounds. I appreciate you respecting me enough to give me the choice.”

“Choice?” I asked.

“Of whether to help you or not,” he replied.

Quen stepped forward and muttered a phrase in Latin and when he waved his hand in front of the iron gate, a door appeared in the fencing, the creaking sound of metal scraping against metal as the door swung open, granting us passage onto the grounds.

Trent and Quen walked ahead of us as we started up the gravel road leading to the mansion. Al and I trailed slightly behind them. Our surroundings made me feel like we had landed in a Henry James novel. All I needed was a bustle and a parasol. I already had my English gentleman… err… gentledemon. Okay, so Al wasn’t all that gentle on most occasions. But as I wondered if he was feeling the same, he hooked my arm in his and we walked together, his green velvet coat still draped around my shoulders. 

The mood was oddly romantic and loving… and then Al had to speak.

“That was a very touching speech Trenton made back there,” Al whispered in my ear. “About choice and trust.”

I stiffened my posture, for a moment concerned Al might do something out of spite or jealousy. But instead, he continued, his warm breath tickling my ear in a not so unpleasant way. “But I’m telling you now, itchy witch, if he makes us all hold hands under a tree in the moonlight and sing Kumbayah, we’re outta here.” 

Whether it was his use of the modern phrasing or the image of two elves and two demons holding hands in a circle under a starlit night, I busted out laughing and leaned into him as we continued our walk up the drive.


	15. A Very Pointed Question

Upon entering the house, we were greeted by a large grand staircase that started to the right of the foyer and swept up to the second and third stories in a majestic arch. The banister was made of intricately bent wrought iron topped with a solid wood railing, the floor made of an expensive marble with veining of green and gold forming a web made not of spider silk but of stone. The Kalamack mansion was exquisite, but so heavily cloaked in opulence and formality, it didn’t really feel like a ‘home’.

Trent cleared his throat to get my attention.

“Quen will escort you to the lower library, where you may wait until I am ready,” he said. 

“How long will you be?” I asked.

“As long as it takes, I suppose,” Trent replied. “I must do a bit of research before I can attempt the spell. I will return shortly,” he said, his emerald green eyes meeting mine before he turned and headed off down a corridor to our left. His footsteps echoed off the high walls of the foyer as he disappeared from view. 

Quen held out a hand indicating a hallway directly ahead. “Right this way, Ms. Morgan. Mr. Algaliarept.”

The hallway looked too narrow for Al and I to walk side-by-side so I slowly unwound my arm where it lay nested with his. I had not gotten very far when I heard Al audibly grumble in protest. Sighing, I turned and looked at him and he raised a brow before winding his arm around mine once more and tightening his hold.

Quen looked at us expectantly and Al beamed before taking a step towards the corridor with a determined stride and I scrambled to match his quick pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quen led us into a modest sized library with dark wood paneling affixed to the walls. Trent’s library (or, at least, this one) held the smell of musty old books not dissimilar from Al’s library. A quick glance at the bindings showed that this library, however, held an assortment of classic literature and history instead of the ancient magical texts that filled the shelves of Al’s space. Trent must have kept the ancient elven goodies elsewhere. I had no doubt this room served as a waiting area for many a guest to the Kalamack Compound.

Quen’s voice cut short my perusal of the volumes.

“If you would be so kind as to wait here, I must check on a few things,” he said.

“Thanks, Quen,” I replied. “Please give Ceri my regards.”

Quen smiled at that and nodded. “I will do.”

“Yes, do be sure to give her my regards as well,” Al added. “You are a lucky man, even if you are an elf. Ceri is a fun girl,” Al said with a wicked sneer that implied much more than his words.

“Al!” I shouted. “Cut it out! Ceri’s a friend of mine.”

“What?” Al said, innocence feigned. “She was quite friendly with me as well.”

Quen’s eyes narrowed as he considered my misbehaving demon but, bless him, he didn’t rise to Al’s bait.

Instead, he turned his head and bowed informally.

“Ms. Morgan,” he said, then turned and left the room, pulling the door shut with a solid click of the latch.

I turned to Al and scowled.

“You are really unbelievable, you know that, Al?”

Al shrugged and turned from me to inspect the books on the shelves.

“Don’t… touch anything,” I warned as if I were his mother. “I’m sure he’s got cameras in here watching our every move.”

Al kept his attention focused on the shelves and raised his arm. With a subtle flick of his fingers, sparks flew from two corners of the library where, evidently, Trent did have surveillance cameras.

“There,” Al said. “Now we have some privacy. Care to put it to good use?” he asked, turning his head to look at me with a leer that said he’d be game for getting down and dirty in Trent’s library if I was.

“Here?” I exclaimed and Al nodded.

“God, no,” I replied. “Even if we weren’t cursed.”

“Party pooper,” Al simpered, his attention returning to the shelves.

Al enjoyed books more than he enjoyed poking me with a stick.

A firm knock at the door drew our attention and a few seconds later it opened, Trent coming into the room with an unbound, frayed-edge tome in one arm and a fedora and red ribbon in the other.

“I thought we were doing magic,” Al commented, “not attending a fancy dress party.”

Instead of reprimanding Al I decided to, this time, let it go.

“I take it you found something that might work?” I asked Trent.

“Something like that,” he replied, setting the text and accoutrements down on a table off to one side of the room.

Trent opened the book to a page he had marked with a green ribbon.

“I will need some information from you first,” he said. “From both of you,” he clarified, raising his head and looking at me and Al in turn, his white-blonde hair falling onto his brow.

“Ask away,” Al prompted, gesturing to Trent with an open palm. Hell, I was just thrilled Al didn’t do anything to mock Trent. I’d take what I could get.

“First,” Trent said, deep in concentration and focusing on whatever was written on the page, “describe for me… how the curse affects you.”

I swallowed hard, nervous about where Trent’s line of questioning was leading. It felt like a confessional.

“Um…” I said. “How do you mean, exactly?”

“What happens, Rachel,” Trent said, “when you and he…” his voice trailed off, leaving me to fill in the uncomfortable gaps.

“He means when we get intimate, itchy witch,” Al said.

I felt heat rise to my face, which had to be as red as my hair.

“Oh, for the love of the Turn,” I huffed, cocking my hip to the side.

Trent was frowning, his brow furrowed while Al… looked smug and satisfied, sporting a cocky, closed-lipped grin.

“We just sort of…” I stammered, “pass… through … each other. Like we don’t have any physical form.”

“Mmm,” Trent intoned. “All of them work a bit differently, mechanics-wise. But they all have a hormonal trigger.”

“Hormonal?” I asked.

“He means that when I get you all hot and bothered, the spell kicks in and we’re not able to… engage in anything further,” Al supplied helpfully.

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Thank you, Al.”

“Anytime, Rachel,” he replied, knowing, of course, how embarrassed I was and relishing every moment of it.

Trent’s eyes shifted between us again, the two demons in his library, but he refrained from making any derogatory comments.

“Okay,” Trent said, turning a page in his book. “A dematerialization spell. One more question, then.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“What is the, um,” Trent hesitated, which was very un-Trent-like. He glanced at me from beneath his pale eyebrows. “What is the nature of your relationship?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said.

“The nature?”

“Come on, Rachel,” Trent said. “You know what I’m asking.”

I shrugged.

“He’s my teacher,” I replied.

“No,” Trent huffed. “Not that.”

“He’s…” I hesitated. What was Al to me? Sure, it was just a one time thing. So far. I was pretty sure I wanted more. But did Al? I didn’t want to put myself out there… certainly not in front of Trent… if this was just a one night stand.

And then, Trent left me speechless. “Are you in love with him?”

My eyes widened in shock.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Well,” he persisted. “Are you?”

I snuck a glance at Al and saw him staring at me, his impassive face giving nothing away.

I shook my head and said, “No, I mean… not… uh…”

“So it’s just a fling?” Trent said.

“You know,” I said, stopping his line of questioning. “This is awfully personal.”

“The spell,” Trent said, his voice clipped, “is awfully personal, Rachel. And I need to know the answers to these questions in order to work the proper spell that will undo it.”

“So.” Trent said and I braved a look at his face, surprised to see it absent of apparent judgment.

“Was it just a one time thing? Is it a fling?” Trent asked again. “Between you and your demon?”


	16. Counterspells and Confessions

Elf and demon looked at me expectantly.

I froze, cornered like a spider about to become acquainted with the business end of a shoe.

“Um. It’s just…you know,” I said, taking a moment to clear my throat.

God – could this get any more uncomfortable?

“No,” Trent replied. “I don’t know.”

I shrugged before saying, “It’s a casual thing, really. You know, just….casual.”

There. That sounded better than “fling” or “sleazy one night stand” and wouldn’t, I didn’t think, offend Al in any way.

Al wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t frowning either. His body language gave nothing away.

“You’re sure about that?” Trent asked, his eyes falling to the floor where I was tapping my boot on the hardwood like a rabbit on speed.

I stilled my foot and immediately felt awkward without an outlet for my nervous energy.

“Yep!” I said a little too excitedly, rocking back slightly on my heels.

“Because it’s important,” the elf continued.

My eyes widened and I raised my eyebrows. “Uh, yeah. I know,” I said, like he has just said something as elementary as one plus one equals two. “Why do you keep asking me? I answered. Can we just move on?”  
I was seriously starting to get annoyed.

Trent was grinding his teeth and I watched as he brought a hand up and smoothed his baby fine hair back from his face.

“Fine,” he huffed, and looked back down at his spell book.

Trent’s lips moved silently over the words in the text, practicing saying the spell he would invoke to dispel Newt’s chastity curse.

“Okay,” he said finally, picking up the fedora and placing it on his impeccably groomed head. He shifted it from side to side, settling it just so and tilting the brim down slightly until no traces of his blonde perfection remained. Only his brilliant emerald eyes were visible.

Trent looked like a wild, dangerous elf in all his sylvan glory and for a brief moment, I wished I was his garden nymph. The man was an arrogant bastard, but he was so goddamned sexy.

He must have felt me staring because he looked up and when his eyes met mine they flashed like brilliant gemstones and the thrill of excitement traveled to his mouth, where his lips parted in a flirtatious smile. His smile was short-lived and it retreated as quickly as it had come, dispersing on the wind like a picture in a cloud. 

“I want you to face each other, with your feet touching” Trent instructed, getting back to business. 

He stood and positioned a couple of chairs so that Al and I would be sitting opposite one another, then gestured for us to take a seat. I had no sooner sat down in my chair when Al looped his legs behind mine and pulled me forward, towards him and damn near out of my seat – a rather brazen show of intimacy from him that surprised me. Or, perhaps it was simply a display of dominance… which would…well…not surprise me all that much.

 _Well_ , I thought. _Our feet are definitely touching now…_

“Now,” Trent continued, eying us suspiciously. “Rachel, I want you to take his left hand in yours.”

Biting my bottom lip, I looked at Al and nodded before looking down at his hands and reaching out to touch his left wrist. Al offered no resistance.

“Not like that,” Trent said. “Hand in hand. Palms touching.”

My heart started racing, thinking of the last time I felt the power rolling off Al’s palms. It had been when he twisted the curse to take back his summoning name, and I remembered being excited but scared at the feel of the dark magic that flowed through him, as natural and unbidden as water in a stream after a heavy storm.

What I felt now was pure exhilaration. None of the fear I once had at being so physically close to a demon.

I hesitated for only an instant, but it was long enough for Al to take the initiative. The demon suddenly grabbed my hand, his palm meeting my own, and I gasped. The line Al was holding sang through me like a heavenly chant, the power flowing effortlessly through me, traversing well-worn pathways.

My eyes fluttered shut as the energy found the insensate space in my groin, kindling a desire there that yearned for fuel and release.

I felt Trent’s eyes on me and when he returned his attention to his book, I turned back to Al and shook my head.

“Bad...,” I mouthed to him, a slight smirk on my lips.

The smile that blossomed on Al’s face in reply was sinfully delicious. I pushed a small amount of power back to him through my palm and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Naughty witch,” Al whispered, and I flushed.

Trent cleared his throat to get our attention out of each other’s pants and back to the task at hand.

“Okay,” Trent said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Al and I said together.

“Whatever happens,” Trent said, “you need to keep your hands together, just as they are. Palms touching. And you need to maintain eye contact with each other and nothing else. Do you understand?” he asked.

“Rachel?” Trent said.

“Yes,” I replied, with a nod of my head.

Trent looked at Al and the demon nodded his head as well.

“Good,” Trent said.

With one final look at the text, Trent inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, releasing his breath on a slow exhale. After a few seconds he nodded to himself and picked up the red ribbon, draping it around his shoulders like a prayer shawl. He closed the book and came to stand to my left, his palms facing downward and hovering over Al’s and my head.

“Tap a line,” Trent instructed. “Both of you. And then loop it back around and through each other, creating a closed circuit of line energy.”

I looked up at Trent with some degree of uncertainty. 

“For how long?” I asked.

“Until I’ve finished working the spell,” he replied. “Don’t worry, Rachel. It will be okay. Just hold the line. Both of you,” he said, his eyes darting between Al and myself. “Maintain the circuit of line energy until I’ve finished the spell and the energy had balanced out between the two of you.”

“Okay,” I said, slightly anxious about what Trent might see when my aura became visible. It had to be blacker than when he last saw it. But what could I do? I was a full-fledged demon. And the smut was a natural byproduct of my working of demon magic. I was slowly becoming more comfortable with that fact.

“Remember,” Trent said again. “Your eyes never leave each other. Got it?”

“We understand,” Al huffed, his impatience showing. “We’re demons, not morons.”

I stifled a giggle.

“Fine,” Trent replied. “Then tap a line, form the circuit, and we’ll begin.”

Energy rushed into me as I reached out for the line and I felt Al do the same. My demon carefully pushed the energy into me where our hands met and I willingly received it, mixing it with my own and sending it back to him through the point at which our feet touched. The energy circled through our bodies, a golden wreath of raw power and potential.

Trent must have felt when the circuit formed as he began chanting in a melodic, unidentifiable language and the smell of pine and freshly cut grass colored the air, Trent’s magic swirling around us in a multihued vortex of greens and purples. 

My eyes were trained on Al’s, his pupils constricted so tightly his eyes were like tiny pools of blood. It felt as if I could see into his soul, the landscape forbidden and foreign, a place he had never allowed me to journey. 

Staring into Al’s eyes, I felt myself falling into a dream state, imagining walking hand in hand with him in a dense and tangled forest. The filtered sun highlighting the sharp features of his face, his eyes a deep, rich brown like the mulchy understory of the earth beneath our feet. I imagined that I could close my eyes and retreat to that place, losing myself forever in a mirror world where neither other demons nor time could touch us. 

I felt my eyes fluttering shut when Al’s sharp and commanding voice cut through my trance.

“Look at me, Rachel,” Al said, and I thought I felt a bit of his power behind the words because my eyes immediately sprung open, as if commanded by a powerful enchantment.

The maelstrom of untamed magic retreated as quickly as it had come, Trent’s voice stilling with the air. The only sound I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears, the pumping of my heart spurred by adrenaline in my veins. 

Afraid that blinking would break all contact and void the spell, my dry eyes remained fixated on Al’s as I asked Trent whether the spell had been completed. 

“Yes,” he replied, his breath more labored than normal. “It’s done.”

Al and I slowly released the line we held, allowing the excess energy to equalize between us before slowly releasing our hands.

“Did it work?” I asked Trent, finally blinking a few times to refocus my eyes on something other than Al.

“I don’t see why not,” Trent replied.

“Well!” Al exclaimed, rising to a stand and clapping his hands together as if a task had been successfully accomplished.

“It has been lovely being here,” Al continued, “but Rachel and I must be off.”

Al stepped towards me and wrapped an arm around my waist. 

“Wait, Al,” I objected. “We can’t leave yet!”

“Yes, itchy witch,” he replied, his eyes focusing on my lips, “we can.”

“Ta!” Al exclaimed, giving Trent a barely perceptible nod before encasing us both in the energy he still held in preparation for transporting us back to the ever-after.

“Wait!” I said. “Trent…,” but I could feel my physical body dissolving in the line and could do nothing but let it take me.

“Thank you…” I whispered to him, hoping Trent heard me before all that remained of my presence in his library was the pungent smell of burnt amber and a red puff of ever-after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we rematerialized, we were back in Al’s bedroom and I was clothed in a red silk negligee, Al in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. 

I looked down at my scantily clad body and smirked. 

“I’m not sure this is suitable attire for eating cake, Al” I joked. 

His eyes met mine and my heart skipped a beat.

“Maybe I’m not hungry for cake, itchy witch,” Al replied. 

“But maybe I am,” I said, turning my back to him and sauntering across the room to where my black forest cake and bag of accoutrements still sat on Al’s tall dresser.

I lifted the lid on the cake stand and set it aside, my finger dipping into the icing before bringing it to my lips.

“Mmm,” I moaned, licking icing from my finger. “So,” I said, opening the bag I brought and looking for the morello cherries for the top of the cake, “what now?” 

I jumped when I felt Al behind me. He had either moved across the floor or misted into existence next to me without making a sound. 

“Now,” Al replied, pulling me towards him and with my back against his chest, I could feel the beginnings of a very healthy erection pressing into my backside, “we try out our newfound freedom!” he said.  
I could feel the smile in his words and couldn’t help smiling in response.

“Hey,” I said, batting his lips away from my neck. “I don’t just get turned on at the drop of a hat, you know.”

“Don’t you?” Al teased, his very cultured British accent causing me to tingle almost as much as his magic. 

Al’s lips captured the finger I had dipped in the icing and he sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue in a way that reminded me of his skillful use of his tongue elsewhere on my body.

“You can’t mean to tell me that you’re ready to get frisky at the drop of a hat,” I continued, but my breath was shaky and he had to have known I was starting to get turned on. Really turned on.

“Can’t I?” he said, his insistent hands gently gliding down my shoulders and sliding the straps of my lingerie to the side and strands of my hair out of the way as I felt his hot breath on my bare neck a moment before his lips fell there as well.

A soft moan escaped my mouth, this time in response to the sweet feel of Al’s soft lips on my skin and instead of the sweet taste of whipped cream icing. 

I turned to him and captured his lips with my own, tasting the whipped cream that still lingered on his tongue. 

But when my head tilted to the other side, my mouth demanding to taste his from a different angle, he disappeared in front of me. I fell forward and through him, landing on all fours on the hard floor and cursing as the rug scraped the skin off both my knees, giving me the mother of all brush burns. 

“Goddamn it!” I shouted. “What the _hell_!” 

I pushed myself off the floor as Al roared and cursed. 

“I’ll kill that putrid elf,” the demon spat, throwing a black curse at the opposite wall. 

The curse left a gaping hole next to Al’s bed, which matched the one he had left in his bathroom earlier in the evening after Newt cursed us into chastity.

“Let me handle it, Al!” I said, reaching out and touching his arm but he yanked it out of my grasp.

I did not need Al tearing Trent limb from limb right now. Not when we needed still Trent’s help doing… whatever he apparently failed to do the first time around.

“Oh, yes!” Al shouted. “Because that worked so well the first time around!”

“There must have just been some sort of mistake,” I reasoned. 

“We’re going back there,” Al said, grabbing the top of my arm in a painful grip. “Now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We arrived back at Trent’s compound a few moments later, materializing, with a red puff of ever-after, in a room I recognized as Trent’s office.

Trent was there.

But he wasn’t alone.

A second after our grand entrance I saw that the elf was meeting with two men in expensive suits who were still sitting in plush leather chairs in front of Trent’s desk.

Trent looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. 

I suddenly looked down and saw that I… was wearing nothing but the flimsy red lingerie Al had clothed me in back in his bedroom.

“What the hell, Al?” I shrieked, crossing my arms in front of me to provide for some hopeless amount of modesty.

Al, fuming, remained silent – his eyes fixed on Trent’s in a mental death grip.

“Hey,” I said to Trent, raising my chin in a look I hoped was defiant and bad-ass. 

“Hey,” the man in the navy pinstripes said. “You’re that witch, Rachel Morgan, right?”

“Gentlemen,” Trent said, rising out of his seat. “If you would excuse us for just a minute.”

The men filed out of the office like rats leaving a sinking ship, but the one in the pinstripes stopped and eyed me from head to toe one last time before disappearing around the door frame. 

Pervert.

“Rachel,” Trent began, “it is incredibly inappropriate for you to jump into my office without observing the necessary formalities.”

“I know, but – ”

“I’m not worried about being seen with you,” he continued. “Quite the contrary, actually, though you could have bothered to dress in something a bit more appropriate. I still have my reputation to uphold, and you jumping here with your demon in tow, looking like two models from Demons After Dark catalog, is not going to help either of our reputations.”

“Look!” I said, raising my voice. I so did not come here to be lectured by him on proper protocol. “I don’t know what the hell you did to us. But whatever it was, it didn’t work.” 

Trent’s eyes narrowed as he considered me and the demon at my back.

“That’s impossible,” he replied. 

God, the man had an ego that just wouldn’t quit.

“What? It’s impossible you got it wrong?” I said.

“Yes,” Trent said, “it’s impossible I performed that spell incorrectly. And I don’t know what bothers me more, Rachel. The fact that you’re questioning my abilities or the fact that you lied to me.”

I laughed and cocked my hip to the side. “I… lied to you?”

Trent nodded. 

“About what?”

Trent’s jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes flicked briefly to Al. “About your true feelings for your demon.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I said.

“If it didn’t work,” Trent hissed, “then it’s _not_ just a casual thing.”

Silence hung in the air as Trent’s words sunk in.

“Rachel…?” Al said and I turned my head to look at him. 

Al looked at me expectantly, a question on his face. I opened my mouth to reply but before I could formulate a response, Al shivered and his gaze shifted towards the large picture window in Trent’s office.

“The sun is rising,” he whispered.

And with that, my demon was transported back to his home in the ever-after, an unanswered question lingering on the red cloud of magic left in his wake.


	17. Feelings

Trent’s eyes remained fixed on my own and I was visibly squirming under the scrutiny. My world had been thrown off kilter by Trent’s proclamation that whatever was going on between Al and me wasn’t just a casual dalliance. And I felt an awkward sense of loss being separated from my demon so rudely by the sun’s tidal beckoning, the power of its force tearing him from my reality and imprisoning him once more in his own.  
We stood there staring at each other, an uncomfortable silence descending like an oppressive, invisible force sucking oxygen from the room. My heart was racing, my throat dry, as I racked my brain trying to think of something to say.

I settled for something just above a nonsensical grunt. “So.”

But Trent wasn’t making this easy on me. He remained silent.

“Come on, Trent. Give me a break, will you?”

At that, Trent raised a pale eyebrow but still refused to speak.

I stomped my foot like an angry toddler, placing my hands on my hips, the silk fabric of my negligee rising slightly up my thighs.

“Just. Say something!” I huffed.

The elf shrugged his shoulders slightly, a cool and casual expression. 

“What would you like me to say, Rachel?”

“By the Turn, anything!” I replied.

“I’m not sure there’s anything I can say,” he said. “Nothing you’d want to hear, that is.”

I nodded. 

It was true. Trent made no mystery of the fact he loathed all demonkind, even if he had warmed up to the point of perhaps accepting me for my own demon nature.

Trent remained standing but began rifling through some papers on his desk, his fidgeting belying the nervousness he must have felt under his cool, composed exterior.

But the silence between us had grown unbearable and I blurted out the first thing that popped into my frizzy-haired head.

“It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.”

“Really?” Trent replied, his jaw hardening. “Then what is it like?”

“Well, I,” I responded, stumbling over my words. “I’m not sure.”

“No?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then you don’t see what I see,” he said, cryptically.

I narrowed my eyes, reading to confront him about what he meant by that when my stomach suddenly clenched and a violet sneeze ripped through my body.

Eyes tearing, nose watering, I gasped for breath as another sneeze took hold, the summoning like a violent affliction.

“He must be summoning me,” I said and Trent nodded his reply.

“Rachel…” Trent started, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the corners of his eyes squinted with either worry or regret.

“Trent, I’m sorry,” I groaned, as another wave of nausea hit me hard. I reached out for him, touching his shoulder in an unconscious show of affection that surprised even myself. 

I shook my head to compose myself, even as the power of Al’s summoning grew in frequency and power. “I didn’t lie to you,” I said. “I just… I’m confused. I don’t know how to feel. I….”

Trent’s expression softened, as did his voice. “Rachel, I’m not angry with you.”

“You’re not?” I asked in disbelief, and Trent shook his head.

“No, not really,” he said. “I know I haven’t exactly been…” Trent paused, his eyes searching the ceiling for the appropriate words to the rest of his song. “… unbiased,” he continued, bringing his eyes to mine, “when it comes to the demons.”

I shrugged and clenched my stomach, struggling to hold onto reality for just a few moments longer before the pull of the ever-after became as inescapable as the event horizon of a black hole. “That’s totally understandable, Trent, I don’t blame you for – ”

“Rachel, _please_ ,” he interrupted. “Just let me finish.”

I swallowed hard and said, “Okay.”

“I haven’t been the most unbiased in my opinion of the demons. But you’re a good person, Rachel,” he said. “And… if you hold some degree of affection for your demon… then… I’m sure he is deserving of such affection.”  
I felt like Sisyphys with my rock removed, a great burden lifted from my shoulders to hear Trent speak those words to me. I knew how difficult it must have been for him. And Trent must have seen the relief reflected in my expression.

“Go speak with your demon, Rachel.”

And with a nod of my head, I surrendered to the demands of Al’s summon, my muscles relaxing and my physical form dissolving as my essence transformed into a billow of red energy and I was pulled into the line.  
When my body reformed, the excess energy of the line left me in a rush, my senses returning in an instant and I recognized the room in which I was standing. Al’s library was my favorite room in his house, the bookcases brimming with priceless ancient texts, the room large and tastefully appointed with leather arm chairs and large tables of intricately carved mahogany, and the fireplace warm and inviting. 

A fire was already blazing, suffusing the room in saffron light. But it was another fire that held all my attention. Al stood before me unblinking, the intensity of his piercing red stare boring into me like a white-hot laser.  
When he spoke his English accent was precise and formal.

“We need to talk, you and I.”


	18. Love Without Words

It took me a few breaths, a few attempts at clearing my throat before my voice worked without shaking. 

“Yeah,” I replied, “I guess we do need to talk.”

Al took my hand in his and led me to a leather loveseat near the fireplace as his magic bathed my skin in a trickle of energy and I found myself clothed in the green cashmere sweater and fitted jeans I had worn when this whole mess started.

“Thank you,” I whispered, grateful for attire that wouldn’t make me feel so vulnerable. 

Al grunted an acknowledgement then led me to the small couch, the creak of leather mixing with the snaps and pops of wood being consumed by flame as I sat down.

My demon sat next to me, guiding my hand to rest atop his thigh. My heart rate notched up to the velocity of a small rodent’s and I could feel my palms break out in a nervous sweat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the embers casting an alternating glow of shadow and light across Al’s face.

Al had changed out of bedroom-wear as well. A pair of jeans now formed perfectly to his legs and a thermal henley top stretched over his broad shoulders and chest. I couldn’t remember a time when he looked so modernly casual. It was a good look for him. Really good. I blushed when my eyes rose to his and it was clear he was enjoying watching me checking him out.

I bit my lip and slowly removed my hand from his thigh. 

“Al, I don’t know quite what to say.”

“Then how about I start,” he replied, and his demeanor suddenly became serious.

I hesitated for just a moment. “…okay.”

Al turned from me and gazed into the fire, watching as the flames licked the sides of the stone encasement as if the fire itself held the answers to the questions of the universe, the mysteries of life. I watched as subtle creases appeared at the corners of his eyes, registering that Al was deep in thought and those thoughts were not necessarily pleasant. The pregnant pause that preceded his words had me concerned. 

Maybe he didn’t think about me the way I thought about him. It wouldn’t have been the first time my heart was broken, but thinking about the possibility that my feelings for him were unrequited didn’t make it hurt any less and my chest felt suddenly heavy with anticipated loss and sorrow. 

“Rachel,” he began, “I appreciate what you did for me in front of your elf. No one has extended me the kindness you’ve shown in a very, very long time.” His carefully chosen words were punctuated by an equally precise English accent. 

He shook his head and huffed. “Pathetic, really, isn’t it?” 

Not liking where Al’s thoughts seemed to be headed, I tried to interrupt him. “Al – ” I started, but he raised a hand and continued before I could say more.

“Rachel, I don’t know what I can offer you,” he said, the hurt in his voice mirrored by his posture, slightly curved shoulders hinting at an underlying insecurity. He turned his attention away from the fire and looked at me. “It’s no mystery how you feel about me, itchy witch,” he continued. “And while at this point it might not border on contempt, I’m well aware it’s pretty far from anything resembling fondness.”

How could he be saying this? 

“No, Al, I –”

“At this point in my miserable life, I’ve given up hope of ever finding the one who will complete me, if there ever was such a thing in the first place.” His focus once again returned to the fire. 

I reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking it to get his attention. “Listen to me, Al—” I tried again.

“I know I haven’t always done right by you, itchy witch,” he said, his hand remaining slack in mine as if I wasn’t even there. 

“No, Al! Just – ”

“And despite what you might think,” he continued as if I wasn’t trying to insert myself into his heartbroken soliloquy, “I care about you, Rachel.” 

Crap on toast! My eyes fell to the sofa as my mind raced to figure out what to say, how to let him know how very much I _did_ care about him. I gasped as I felt his ungloved hand brush my cheek and I could feel myself on the verge of tears. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at your elf,” Al said, “and I know that could never be me. If I’m being completely honest with you and not the selfish bastard I’ve always been, I would let you go. You can have a good life with him. It destroys me to say that, but you’ve always valued honesty above all else. And now that we have this trust thing going on, I find I want you to be happy. And I know you can find happiness with him.”

I glared at him and pulled away from his touch, my brow creased in anger as I rose from the loveseat and cocked my hip. “But that’s not what I want!”

“Rachel, I have nothing to offer you and I know it. We’ll get past this, you and I. And we’ll settle into our usual teacher/ student relationship. It’s for the best. You know that’s what your heart’s telling you.”

“You clearly don’t know a thing about my heart!” I fumed. “Don’t you think I deserve to have a say in this?” I said, my voice becoming more demanding. I had to stop where this conversation was going. 

Al simply shrugged. “You’ve already had your say, itchy witch. You seem to forget, I’ve seen your thoughts. I know exactly how you feel about me. About all demonkind.”

“No,” I shouted, “you don’t!” I couldn’t believe it. He was letting me go. He was letting me go based on feelings he had seen in my psyche long before I had fallen for him. I couldn’t let him get away with it!

“Everything will be fine, Rachel. I’ll send you back to your church so you can settle into your life again and we’ll meet again next Saturday and follow our regular schedule.”

Al stood and moved towards me, preparing to send me back to a reality in which I didn’t want to return. Not yet. Not this soon. Not before Al truly knew how I felt about him.

“I’m not going back, Al! Not like this!” I said, literally punctuating my proclamation with a petulant stamp of my foot.

“Rachel, listen to me, you silly, silly girl!” Al said, anger abruptly transforming his sorrow as a snarl marred his face, marking his displeasure with me.

“No, goddamnit!” I yelled, pulling hard on the nearest ley line until the energy spilled from my chi and my hands glowed with brilliant white light. “You’re going to listen to me, Al, or so help me I’m going to make you listen!” I wasn’t above threatening him at this point. And Al knew I could pull a line through him and turn him into a drooling demon vegetable. Sure, he might see it coming this time. But I knew I could beat him if I had to or, at the very least, hold my own.

Al hesitated as he saw the line energy pooling in the palms of my hands, not knowing whether I was going to throw it at him or burn down his library with it. 

“Don’t you _dare_ do anything foolish, Rachel,” Al warned, dark energy beginning to drip from his hands in response to my unveiled threat.

“Foolish?” I shouted. “I’ll show you foolish, Al! Because you… you… you ignorant demon! You have _no idea_ how I feel about you!”

I was in front of him in three strides and before he knew it, my hands were on either side of his face, the energy spilling from me into him with the force of an open fire hydrant, my eyes boring into his and when I looked closely, I could see myself reflected in the red pools of his pupils, a frazzled, frizzy haired woman with nothing to lose and an air of what could only be described as sheer maniacal desperation. Al’s eyes widened – one part terror and one part excitement – and I felt him prepare to send a flood of energy my way.

“Now read me, goddamnit! Read me now, you impossible man!” I implored him, and before he could reply my lips covered his. I nipped at him savagely, lust and greed transmitted to him in a red wash of energy that flowed from my every pore. 

Al took everything I gave him and I felt him relax into the kiss as I opened my mind to him fully, feeling him prod the outer edges of my consciousness. In an instant, I relived select parts of the last week of my life. It was an odd sensation, watching as parts of my life flash before my eyes while Al reviewed a portion of my most recent memories. 

One moment, I was pushing a cart down the aisle of the market, stopping to pluck a jar of cherry liquor off a shelf as I secretively smiled to myself, a blush of pink staining my cheeks as I thought of the cake I was going to bake especially for Al. 

The scene in the market was quickly replaced by an image of me standing before the mirror in my bedroom, agonizing over what to wear as I prepared for my reunion with Al, all of my thoughts centered on which outfit would accentuate my best features and which Al would find particularly sexy. 

In an instant, the image of my bedroom dissolved and before me appeared another image from earlier that same day – one of me standing in my black lace panties and camisole in front of the mirror in the bathroom as I painstakingly straightened my hair with a flat iron and carefully applied just the right amount of makeup to highlight my high cheekbones and give my lips just the right amount of sultry pout. 

The scene suddenly cut to Al’s bedroom and I watched us as two naked lovers, dancing in a perfect sensual rhythm, thoughts of love and lust flitting through my head like delicate blue butterflies. 

One of the final thoughts Al pulled from my mind was the terror and panic I felt when Newt confronted us, the feeling that I would almost give anything – quite possibly even my life – to stop Newt from hurting Al and taking him from me. 

Lastly, Al relived, through my mind, the last few moments of the present and he felt my despair and heartache when I thought he was rejecting me. 

We came back to ourselves in a rush, the energy leaving us as a retreating tide, and with a gasp, Al pulled back from our kiss, pushing the hair from my brow with a familiar affection. 

“Itchy witch?” Al said, searching my eyes before pressing his lips to my forehead in a chaste kiss. 

“I don’t know where we go from here,” I whispered, still regaining my breath from our mind-share. “But that’s how I feel.”

We stood there for a heartbeat, neither one of us saying anything but simply holding each other in a loose embrace, before Al smiled and asked, “So what do we do now?”

Returning his smile, I closed my eyes and leaned further into his embrace. I didn’t know where to go from here, but I knew this felt right and, at this moment, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. “I don’t know,” I admitted, echoing my thoughts. 

“Well I do,” an unexpected voice interjected.

Al and I jumped apart like we had been shocked by a particularly aggressive cattle prod. 

“Newt!” Al exclaimed and my heart was in my throat. 

Neither one of us had heard her arrive.


End file.
